



































































PAN THE PIPER 

And Other Marvelous 
Tales 











THE DUKE OF BURGUNDY AND HIS ARMY 
ENTERING CHARTRES 

From a fifteenth-century manuscript 
British Museum, London 


r i 1 HE Duke of Burgundy is wearing a suit of plate armor very much like 
that which you will see in the illustration of the initial letter of the story. 
As this procession rides by, you can almost hear the loud trumpet blasts of the 


heralds 1 . 



















Pan the Piper 

& Other Marvelous Tales 

by Anna Curtis Chandler 

With Decorations and 
Many Illustrations 
from Works of Art and 
Old Manuscripts 



Harper & Brothers Tublijhers 

New\brk & London MCMXXI1I 












PAN THE PIPER 


Copyright, 1923 
By Harper & Brothers' 
Printed in the U.S.A. 


First Edition 

H-X 

All Rights Reserved 


© Cl A 7 6 0 5 7 5 ^ 

si 

OCT k7 id33 





To 


MR. AND MRS. ROBERT W. de FOREST 
Who Understand Children So Well 







The Story-Teller 

m/ 

bows and thanks all the friends 
who have helped her in the 
making of this book: the Met¬ 
ropolitan Museum and Li¬ 
brary and the Boston Public 
Library for their courtesy: 
especially Miss C. Louise 
Avery for her help and sym¬ 
pathetic criticism. 

She begs to mention by name the artists who have 
given her special permission to use their copyrighted 
work: 

Henri Crenier, Edwin Willard Deming, Abas- 
tenia St. Leger Eberle, Anna Vaughn Hyatt, Albert 
Laessle, Edward McCartan, Paul Manship, Fred¬ 
erick G. R. Roth, Harry Dickinson Thrasher, Bessie 
Potter Vonnoh. 



IX 



























The Books 
that Helped 
the Story-Teller 



Allen, Thomas G. 

Cities of Belgium 
Art and Archeology 

January, February, and August, 1920 
Atkinson, James 

Translation and abridgment in prose and verse, of The Shah Nameh 
of the Persian Poet Firdausi 

Binyon, Laurence 

Painting in the Far East 
Brabazon, Elizabeth Jane 
Tales from Spanish History 


Browne, Edith A. 

Peeps at Many Lands: Spain 
Bulley, Margaret H. 

Ancient and Medieval Art 
Calvert, Albert F. 

Granada and the Alhambra 


Caunter, Rev. Hobart 

The Romance of History: India 
Chaucer. Geoffrey 

The Canterbury Tales, a modern rendering into prose of the prologue 
and ten tales by Percy Mackave 

Clephan, Robert Coltman 

The Tournament , Its Periods and Phases 
Cox, Charles 

Canterbury, an Historical and Topographical Account of the City 


xi 















PAN THE PIPER 


Cripps-Day, Francis Henry 

History of the Tournament in England and in France 
Crowe, J. A., and Cavalcaselle, G. B. 

The Early Flemish Painters 
Cruttwell, Maud 

Luca and Andrea della Robbia and Their Successors 

Curtis, Natalie 

The Indian s Book 

a. The Morning Star and the Evening Star 

b. The story of the First Mother, adapted from Joseph Nicolar’s 
The Red Man 

Davis, Mary Hayes, and Chow-Leung 
Chinese Fables and Folk Stories 
Dick, Stewart 

Arts and Crafts of Old Japan 
Dilke, Lady Emilia Frances (Strong) 

French Painters of the Eighteenth Century 
Elliot, Frances Minto (Mrs. Gilbert Elliot) 

Old Court Life in Spain 
Froissart, Sir John 

Chronicles of England, France, and Spain 

Gautier, Judith 

The Memoirs of a White Elephant 

Gautier, Theophile 

Cathedral of Milan (in Singleton’s Turrets, Towers, and Temples) 

Graham, E. Maxtone 
Children of France 

Greenlee, W. M. 

In the Shadow of the Alhambra 

Grierson, Elizabeth 

The Children’s Book of English Minsters 

Haaren, John Henry 

Famous Men of the Middle Ages 

Hamlin, Alfred Dwight Foster 

Textbook of the History of Architecture 

Headland, Isaac Taylor 

The Chinese Boy and Girl 


Xll 




BOOKS THAT HELPED STORY-TELLER 


Hearn, Lafcadio 

1. Japanese Fairy Tales 

2. Some Chinese Ghosts 

a. The Soul of the Great Bell 

b. The Tale of the Porcelain God 
Howe, T. H. Manners 

Peeps at History: India 
Irving, Washington 

1. Conquest of Granada 

2. Legends of the Alhambra 

Kelly, Charles Fabens, and William Luther Mowll 
A Textbook of Design 

Kipling, Rudyard 

1. The Jungle Book 

2. The Second Jungle Book 

Kirk, John Foster 

History of Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy 

Lang, Leonora Blanche (Mrs. Andrew Lang) 

The Book of Princes and Princesses; edited by Andrew Lang 

Lewis, Dr. George Griffin 

The Mystery of the Oriental Rug 

Marshall, Henrietta Elizabeth 
History of France 

Memoirs of Jahangir (Tuzuk-I-JahangIr!) 

Translated by Alexander Rogers; edited by Henry Beveridge 

Morris, Charles 

Historical Tales: Spanish 

Morrison, Arthur 

The Painters of Japan 

Morse, Edward Sylvester 

Glimpses of China and Chinese Homes 

Newbolt, Henry 

Stories from Froissart 

Olcott, Frances Jenkins 

1. Tales of the Persian Genii 

2 . More Tales from the Arabian Nights; based on the translation 

from the Arabic by Edward William Lane 


xm 




PAN THE PIPER 


Oliver, Maud I. G. 

First Steps in the Enjoyment of Pictures 

Omond, George W. T. 

Peeps at Many Lands : Belgium 

Paul, Sir James Balfour 

The Order of the Golden Fleece (from the Scottish Historical 
Review) 

Pitman, Norman Hinsdale 
Chinese Fairy Stories 

Prang Educational Company 
Art Education for High Schools 

Putnam, Ruth 

Charles the Bold, Last Duke of Burgundy 

Ruskin, John 

Mornings in Florence 

Singleton, Esther 

1. Turrets, Towers, and Temples, the Great Buildings of the World 

as Seen and Described by Famous Writers 

2 . Wonders of the JForld, as Seen and Described by Great Writers 

Steel, Flora Annie 

India Through the Ages 

Tappan, Eva March 

1. The Chaucer Story Book 

2 . When Knights ITere Bold 

Taylor, Meadous 

A Student’s Manual of the History of India 

Tredwell, Winifred Reed 

Chinese Art Motives Interpreted 

Weale, William Henry James 
Hans Memlinc 

Willys, A. A. 

Swiss Heroes: an Historical Romance of the Time of Charles the 
Bold; translated from the German of A. A. Willys by George P. 
Upton 

Wilmot-Buxton, E. M. 

Stories of Persian Heroes; retold from The Shah Nameh of Firdausi 


xiv 




The Tales 


Page 

The Path Leading into the Stories . xxv 

Pan’s Frolic with the Bronze Folk. 3 

A Christmas Gift. 27 

The Tournament of a Duke of Burgundy. 55 

When the Tongues of the Bells Were Loosened. 79 

A Magic Carpet of Old Persia. 103 

How Color Came to the World. 125 

Around the Camp Fire of the Animals. 151 

Moonlight Moving Pictures. 171 

In the Sparkling Waters of a Moorish Fountain . 197 

China, the Land of Many Dragons. 215 


xv 

















Pictures Painted and 
Carved and Drawn 


Piping Pan, by Edward McCartan. 

Mutual Surprise, or Grizzly and Turtle, by Edwin Willard 
Deming 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Girl on Roller Skates, by Abastenia St. Leger Eberle 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Wolfhound, by Frederick G. R. Roth 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Girl Dancing, by Bessie Potter Vonnoh 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Boy and Turtle, by Henri Crenier 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Performing Bear, by Frederick G. R. Roth 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Panther, by Anna Vaughn Hyatt 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Performing Elephant, by Frederick G. R. Roth 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Duck, by Harry Dickinson Thrasher 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Bronze Turkey, by Albert Laessle 

Original in the possession of the Philadelphia Art Club. . 
The Duke of Burgundy and His Army Entering Chartres 
(from a fifteenth century manuscript) 

British Museum, London. (see page 66 ) 

Hurdy Gurdy, by Abastenia St. Leger Eberle 

Detroit Institute of Art. 


IVrapper 

U 


it 

Frontis. 

Title-page 


xvi 1 
















PAN THE PIPER 


Fanciful Design of a Ship, by Jean Pillemont (eighteenth 
century) 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Girl Dancing, by Bessie Potter Vonnoh 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

A Scribe at Work, a Miniature (from a fifteenth century 
French manuscript, Miracles de Notre Dame ) 
Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris. 

Landscape, by Alexander H. Wyant 

Buffalo Art Society. 

Frog Fountain, by Janet Scudder 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Goats Butting, by Anna Vaughn Hyatt 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Performing Elephant, by Frederick G. R. Roth 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 


Page vii 


U 


ix 


u 


xi 


u 


XXV 


<< 


I 


<< 


5 


u 


5 


Enthroned, by Bessie Potter Vonnoh 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Facing p. io 


An Old Clearing, by Alexander H. Wyant 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Roaring Forties, by Frederick J. Waugh 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Northeaster, by Winslow Homer 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Girl with Gazelles, by Paul Manship. Page 

Angel with Tambourine (from a triptych by Fra Angelico) 

Uffizi Gallery, Florence. 

Nativity, by Antonio Rossellino 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Angel with Flute (from a triptych by Fra Angelico) 

Uffizi Gallery, Florence. 

In the Garden, by George De Forest Brush 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Facing p. 

The Wave, by Hokusai 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 


12 

16 

18 

23 

25 

3i 

31 

32 
3+ 


xvin 





















PICTURES PAINTED, CARVED , DRAWN 


Harp of the Winds; A view on the Seine, by Homer D. 

Martin 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Facing p. 

Connie Gilchrist, by James McNeill Whistler 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

Japanese Brocade (seventeenth century) 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New A ork. Page 

Evening at Aledfield, by George Inness 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Facing p. 

A December Night, by W. A. Coffin 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New A ork. 

The Silent Dawn, by W. L. Palmer 

Aletropolitan Museum of Art, New A ork. 

American Oak Chest (seventeenth century) 

Aletropolitan Aluseum of Art, New A ork. 

Knight Jousting (from a fourteenth century English 

manuscript) . Page 

Knights Jousting (panel from a fourteenth century French 
ivory casket) 

Aletropolitan Aluseum of Art, New York. 

Suit of Gothic Armor, about 1460 

Aletropolitan Aluseum of Art, New York. 

Aladonna and Child with Saints, by Hans Alemlinc 

Collection of the Duke of Devonshire, Chatsworth, 

England. 

Bruges, Quai du Rosaire, Showing Belfry. Facing p. 

Isabelle of Bavaria Entering Paris (from a manuscript, Paris, 

1389) ...;. 

Joust (from the AVestminster Tournament Roll, a sixteenth 
century English manuscript) 

Heralds’ College, London. Page 

The Chief of the Order Places on the Neck of a Knight the 
Collar of the Order of the Golden Fleece. (A 
miniature of the Franco-Flemish School, about 
1450-1500.) 

Bibliotheque Royale de Belgique, Brussels. Facing p. 


36 

38 

41 

42 

44 

48 

50 

53 

57 

57 

59 

62 

64 


68 


68 


xix 



















PAN THE PIPER 


The Feast Offered the Emperor Charles IV by the King 
Charles V in the Great Hall of the Palace at Paris 
(from the fifteenth century manuscript, Grand 
Chronique de France) 

Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris. Facing p. 

Banquet Scene, Representing the Month of January (from 
the Book of Hours of the Duke of Berry, a fifteenth 
century French manuscript illuminated by Pol de 
Limbourg) 

Chantilly Museum. 

Hawking-party, representing the Month of May (from the 
Book of Hours of the Duke of Berry, a fifteenth 
century French manuscript illuminated by Pol de 
Limbourg) 

Chantilly Museum. 

Jester and Hound (from a model of Penshurst Castle in 

Kent, made by Dwight Franklin). Page 

Mummers (from a fourteenth century English manuscript). 
Canterbury Pilgrims, by Thomas Stothard (English, eight¬ 
eenth-nineteenth century). 

Gargoyle (French, Gothic, fourteenth to fifteenth century). 

Cathedral of Notre Dame, Paris. Facing p. 


70 


72 


74 

76 

77 

82 

82 

90 


Cathedral of Milan. 

St. Mark’s Cathedral, Venice . 

Border Design (from a manuscript of Nizami, Persian, a.d. 

1539 - 42 ) 

British Museum, London . Page 

A Youth from “Narcisse,” designed by Leon Bakst 

Collection of M. Carnot, Paris. 

Rustem Catching His Horse, Rakush (from a Persian manu¬ 
script, a.d. 1537) 

Collection of Baron de Rothschild. Facing p. 


94 

96 


101 

106 


110 


Rustem’s Horse Fighting with a Lion (from a Persian manu¬ 
script, a.d. 1537) 

Collection of Baron de Rothschild . “ 114 


Hunting the Lion (from a manuscript of Nizami, Persian, 
a.d. 1539 - 43 ) 

British Museum, London . “ 118 


xx 

















PICTURES PAINTED , CARVED, DRAWN 


Persian Animal Rug (seventeenth century) 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Facing p. 120 

Tile, deer and grasses (Persian, twelfth to thirteenth 
century) 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Page 122 

Primitive Chant, by Herman Atkins MacXeil 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. “ 123 

East River in Winter, by Rudolph Ruzicka. “ 128 

The Flight of Night, by Paul Manship. “ 128 

The Peace Pipe, by E. Irving Couse 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. “ 133 

The Whale Ship, by J. M. W. Turner 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Facing p. 136 

Central Park in Winter, by W illiam J. Glackens 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New A ork. Page 138 

Windy Doorstep, by Abastenia St. Leger Eberle 

Worcester Art Museum. 14° 

Metropolitan Tower, by Guy C. A\ iggins 

Aletropolitan Museum of Art, New A ork. Facing p. 142 

The zEgean Sea, by Frederic E. Church 

Aletropolitan Aluseum of Art, New A ork. 144 

Edge of the Woods, by Theodore Rousseau 

Aletropolitan Aluseum of Art, New York. “ 146 


The Sun Vow, by Herman Atkins AlacNeil 

Aletropolitan Aluseum of Art, New A ork. 

Hares, Aliniature (from a fifteenth century French manu¬ 
script, Livres de la Chasse, par Gaston Phebus, 
Comte de Foix) 

Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris. 

Fighting Elephants (Indian miniature by an artist of the 
School of Jahangir) 

Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris. 

Lions (Arabic miniature, a.d. 1250) 

British Aluseum, London . 

Animals, Persian miniature showing Chinese influence, a.d. 
1262 

Collection of Air. Dyson Perrins, Alalvern, England.. 


Page 148 


<< 


149 


U 


153 


<< 


153 


U 


155 


XXI 




















PAN THE PIPER 


Shah Jahan on an Elephant (miniature by an artist of the 


School of Shah Jahan, Indian) 

Collection of M. Kevorkian, London. Page 159 

Battle Scene (from a Persian manuscript, a.d. 1539) 

Collection of F. R. Martin. Facing p. 164 


Bambino, by Andrea della Robbia 

Hospital of the Innocents, Florence. Page 169 

Frieze from the Singing Gallery or Cantoria, by Luca della 
Robbia 

Cathedral Museum, Florence. “ 174 

Madonna and Child, by Luca della Robbia 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. “ 174 

Group from the Singing Gallery, by Luca della Robbia 

Cathedral Museum, Florence. Facing p. 176 

The Gleaners, by Jean Francois Millet 

Louvre, Paris. “ 180 

Group from the Singing Gallery, by Luca della Robbia 

Cathedral Museum, Florence. “ 182 

Spring, by Sandro Botticelli 

Academy, Florence. Page 186 

Mother and Child, by Mary Cassatt 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Facing p. 188 

Madonna of the Magnificat, by Sandro Botticelli 

Uffizi Gallery, Florence . “ 190 

The Annunciation, by Andrea della Robbia 

Hospital of the Innocents, Florence. Page 193 

Knight (from an ivory saddle said to have belonged to Don 
Jaime II, King of Majorca, Spanish, fourteenth 
century) 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. “ 195 

Stucco Design from the Hall of the Two Sisters in the 

Alhambra, Granada. “ 199 

Ship, Spanish, sixteenth century. “ 199 

Vista into the Interior of Generalife, Alhambra. Facing p. 202 

Entrance to the Court of the Lions, Alhambra. “ 206 

The Surrender of the Keys of Granada to Ferdinand and 
Isabella by King Boabdil, by F. Pradilla 
The Senate, Madrid . “ 210 


XXII 






















PICTURES PAINTED , CARVED , DRAWN 


Ducks (Chinese drawing), a.d. 1400 

Collection of F. R. Martin. Page 213 

Ornamental Drawing in Chinese Style, a.d. 1550 

Collection of Charles Ricketts, London. “ 218 

Ornamental Drawing in Chinese style, Persian school, a.d. 

I 45° 

British Museum, London . “ 218 

Welcome to the Dew (Chinese painting of about a.d. 1000) 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. “ 222 

Makimono, Birds and Flowers (Chinese painting of about 
a.d. 1050) 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. “ 227 

Landscape with Pagoda Palace in the Foreground, Chinese 

(thirteenth to fourteenth century). Facing p. 228 

Blue-and-white Hawthorn Ginger Jar, Chinese porcelain 
(seventeenth century) 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Page 233 

Bear (from a fifteenth century French manuscript, Livres de 
la Chasse, par Gaston Phebus, Comte de Foix) 

Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris. “ 235 


xxiii 
















The Path 

Leading into the Stories 

2 Pipes of Pan are calling ever so 
softly, but, oh, so clearly: “Come into 
this Picture and follow me up the 
Path which leads to the Stories!” 
How many can hear Pan's voice, for 
all the world like the rustle of the wind 
among the trees in the wood, the songs 
of the full-throated birds, or the clear 
and joyous music of the brook rush¬ 
ing so merrily upon its way? Fainter grows his 
clear and gallant call, sweeter, though farther and 
farther away, the elfin music of his pipes. Quickly 
now, here we go right into the woods and up the 
Path to the shadowy spot where Pan stands with his 
pipes to his mouth, just as you see him outside and 
inside the book covers. There he is leading the 
Bronze Folk: the Skating Girl, the Dancing Maiden, 
the Panther, the Elephant, and even the pompous 



XXV 



PAN THE PIPER 


Turkey! Just so he stands ready to play his lilting 
music and to beguile us into all sorts of good times 
and adventures. 

With him we shall not only wander into the Stories 
and learn how to look at all the Secrets of Beauty in 
their pictures, but, like the Boy in the Christmas 
Story, we, too, shall find Beauty in the most unex¬ 
pected places. We shall not only enjoy the wonder¬ 
ful procession of little carved folk inside the book 
covers, but the whirl and motion of line in the little 
dancing people on the title page, and the daintiness 
of the Fancy Ship under the Dedication. Sometimes 
a little picture helps to support a big capital letter at 
the beginning of a story, and sometimes it stands 
alone at the end, making a complete and balanced 
pattern by itself. All of the Secrets of Beauty are 
ours for seeking—you will find out all about them 
with the Boy in the Christmas Story! 

“Pan, O Pan! Just wait one moment, for we are 
coming!” we cry, our hearts beating very fast as we 
hurry along, fearful lest he vanish before we can run 
up the Path into the woods where he is standing call¬ 
ing to us with the music of his pipes. The branches 
of the trees sway in time to his playing, the birds sing 


XXVI 




THE PATH LEADING INTO THE STORIES 


more happily than ever before, never have the moss 
and the wild flowers of the woods seemed sweeter as 
away we go, our feet scarcely touching the shadowed 
pathway, following the music of the Pipes of Pan. 

“We are ready for the first story!” he cries, halting 
before the title page with the chubby adorable Baby 
laughing gleefully at the frog so close to his dimpled 
feet. A few more steps we take, right by the funny 
Butting Goats, and the Elephant who surely is 
strong enough to support any initial letter, and here 
we are, right into the first of the stories! 

Anna Curtis Chandler. 

New York, 1922. 


XXVI1 





PAN’S FROLIC 

WITH THE BRONZE FOLK 

















Pan's Frolic 
with the Bronze Folk 


INTRODUCTION 


CE upon a time the Picture Children stepped 
\^/ right out of their frames, just for the living boys 
and girls wishing them alive. Such a frolic as they 
had in the Museum*s dusky halls and then a grand 
ball downstairs in the great hall below. But it so 
happened that some of the Picture People passed 
gayly through, on their way to the rooms where they 
held their party, the long upstairs corridors at the 
right and left of the big staircase. Of course the 
little bronze children and animals saw them tiptoe¬ 
ing gayly along and heard their whispers of delight 
at being alive. “If only we could come to lifethey 
sighed deep within themselves because they could 
not make a sound, and they could not move this way 
or that, however hard they tried. You know, your- 


INTRODUCTION 


selves, that it is not much fun to see other people hav¬ 
ing a good time and be left out, and so these little 
Bronze People were very sad for many days, though 
of course they looked no different to the Museum vis¬ 
itors who chanced to pass them by. But there was a 
little boy who stood one day gazing at the bronze 
figure of a little girl skimming along on just one 
roller skate. “1 just wish that little girl could come 
to life,” he said aloud, “for ’twould be such fun to 
skate with her out in the Park, she could go so fast.” 
He wished it hard, and just then his mother called , 
so he did not have a chance to notice a slight move¬ 
ment of the little arm. But that night, just because 
of his wishing it so very hard, the little carved chil¬ 
dren came to life, so I have heard, and had a glorious 
time together. Arent you all glad, just as I am, that 
we can “pretend” them back again f 


4 




Pan’s Frolic 

with the Bronze Folk 



CAN feel my joints getting less and less 
stiff!” whispered the little Skating Girl 
to herself that night after the dear little 
boy who had wished her to life had 
gone. “Every bone is cracking and I 
just know I shall be able to move pretty 
soon. Why, I can hear the animals mov- 

J / 

ing already!” Sure enough, from this 
side and that could be heard all sorts of 
strange sounds, and through the darkness could be 
seen the movement of shadowy forms; the long, sleek 



PAN THE PIPER 


form of a Tiger stole stealthily by, then thump went 
an Elephant down from his shelf, scaring the Butting 
Goats so very much that they tumbled right over 
backward! 

“Eve just put the watchman to sleep with pleasant 
dreams,” came the tinkling voice of the Dancing 
Maiden as she floated straight up a moonbeam that 
came peering in the window: for these little carved 
folk who come to life are “Fairy Folk,” you know. 

“Be careful not to wake him with all your chatter,” 
snarled a Tiger as he lashed the floor with his long 
tail. 

“Wake him yourself!” trumpeted the Elephant as 
with his trunk he playfully knocked over the Per¬ 
forming Bear. 

“He’s treading on my toe!” cried one of the But¬ 
ting Goats, while a big Dog with long ears barked 
ferociously. 

“Please do be a little more quiet,” begged the 
daintiest of Mothers as she rose from the high-backed 
chair where she had been sitting, holding her baby 
and gazing tenderly upon her two little daughters 
who pressed close to her side. “Babies get frightened 
at too much noise, you know. Eittle Girl in the High 

6 




PAN’S FROLIC WITH THE BRONZE FOLK 


Chair, climb down and play with Baby, while I 
see what is happening among the animals. You, 
daughters, go and call to life the Girl with the Ga¬ 
zelles, Pan, the Duck, the Turkey, the Boy with the 
Turtle, the Jaguar, and the Panther.” 

Peace prevailed once more and it was not long 
before a procession went trooping up the stairs: in 
the lead tripped Pan, sending out sweet strains from 
his pipes and dancing first on one foot and then on 
the other. Then came a Girl with a Gazelle on either 
side, and following her, flitting this way and that as 
light as thistle down, the dainty Dancing Maiden, 
while in the rear waddled the Turkey, and along the 
side of the procession stole the Jaguar and the Pan¬ 
ther, taking six steps at a time. 

When Pan reached the top of the grand stair¬ 
case he blew upon his pipes a longer and a sweeter 
blast than before—once, twice! Then he cried, 
“All you who come in my train and are larger 
than the Fairy Folk up here awaiting us, change 
now your size that all may frolic together and play 
at being alive!” 

Quickly then—so quickly that the Elephant had 
scarcely time to wink a heavy eyelid—those who had 

7 






PAN THE PIPER 


been larger in size grew small, just the size of the 
little Bronze People upstairs. 

Once more the strains sounded from the pipes of 
Pan, and then he cried with longing in his voice, 
“No party can be half so nice within these halls as 
out under a summer sky on wind-swept hills or be¬ 
neath some spreading tree on a green wood’s edge 
close to a babbling brook! Tell me, how many feel 
as I?” 

“You are speaking true, O Pan,” replied the 
tender Mother, smiling. “I often long to take my 
babies out in the free, clear air beneath the warm¬ 
ing sun.” 

“What glorious fun ’twould be!” cried the little 
Skating Girl, giving herself such a spinning round 
that only a swirl of flying skirts and hair was 
seen. 

“Oh, hurry, Pan, and let us go!” eagerly exclaimed 
the Boy with the Turtle. “I just hope there’ll be a 
brook near by!” 

“Get a place big enough for me to frolic,” trum¬ 
peted the Elephant. “And for us to finish our 
quarrel!” roared the Lions, as they chased one 
another into the shadows with muffled roars. 

8 




PAN’S FROLIC WITH THE BRONZE FOLK 


“And for me to tumble on the green and roll down 
a hillside," chuckled the Performing Bear. 

‘‘I want a great high tree to climb!” piped the shrill 
voice of a tiny cub tossed high in the air by the 
Father Bear. 

“I should like to select the place!” announced the 
Turkey, strutting, while the Tiger, the Panther, and 
the Jaguar beat the floor with their tails and growled, 
lazily, “We will go, too!” 

“Let's leave it to Pan!” sang the Dancing Maiden. 
“So many fields has he crossed, so many brooks 
he’s waded, so many mountains climbed, and so 
many woods enjoyed, he knows just where to lead 
us. So play thy pipes, O Pan; lead on and we will 
follow!” 

Forth came the answering music, and Pan danced 
from the long gallery into the other dusky Museum 
rooms. Next came the Girl with her Gazelles, then 
the Dancing Maiden, while the Skating Girl flew so 
fast—even though just one foot rode on a roller skate 
—that she almost outdistanced the nimble Pan. The 
Elephant ambled along, the Butting Goats frolicked 
with the Performing Bear, and at the very end slowly 
waddled the Duck, followed by the strutting Turkey. 

9 




PAN THE PIPER 


They had not gone far when they heard the barking 
of the Dog, and alongside he dashed with flopping 
ears and hanging tongue; he had been exploring, 
and had almost missed the party. 

“Here we are!” cried Pan at last as he stopped be¬ 
fore a beautiful picture called the “Edge of the 
Woods.” “See how cool it looks and how green and 
mossy. Now then, when I have sounded three 
strains upon my pipes, be ready to jump over the 
frame into the woods. Be careful there, you 
Elephant, and let the lighter ones go first!” 

Sweet and shrill sounded the music from the pipes 
of Pan, and as the last strains died away the picture 
grew larger, and inside the frame could be seen the 
swaying branches of the trees, the wind-moved grass, 
and the feathery moss. 

Softly then the Fairy Folk jumped within. 
Lightly sped the Dancing Girl first, then each one 
followed, landing on the soft grass in the woods, all 
save the Elephant, who, sulky at what Pan had said, 
had to be urged across the frame. 

“Ah-h! How fine this is!” joyously sighed the 
Dancing Maiden as she swayed gracefully in and 
out among the trees. 


IQ 





ENTHRONED 
Bessie Potter Vonnoh 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


/ THINK the Mother is telling a story, and each one is listening—even 
the wee baby. Each one looks very real, and they are so well placed that 
they seem to belong together, the graceful lines fit into one another, 



PAN’S FROLIC WITH THE BRONZE FOLK 


“It is just what I have been longing for!” breathed 
the Mother, as, with her baby in her arms and her 
little daughters by her side, she sat down on a gray- 
green mossy bank. 

“You can’t catch me!” shouted the Skating Girl, 
as, clutching her skate in one hand, she sped off 
toward the woods, followed swiftly by the Butting 
Goats and the Panther, whose long strides covered 
the ground so swiftly that he was soon far out of 
sight. “I’d like to stay here forever!” 

“And I!” growled the Tiger, who was stretched 
full length beneath some bushes. “I’m tired of stay¬ 
ing in a Museum for all to come and see; sometimes 
I feel like growling at them and even biting them 
when they stand admiring me!” 

“I’m tired of it, too,” murmured the Girl with the 
Gazelles. “I wish that we could stay alive and play 
and frolic in these woods. I’m tired of being just a 
beautiful statue in a Museum. Why can we not stay 
here and be alive, O Pan?” 

For answer, Pan blew a shrill blast on his pipes 
and all the Fairy Folk came scampering and waited 
for him to speak. 

“To-night you are Fairy Folk and on a Fairy 


ii 




PAN THE PIPER 


party,” said Pan, with wistful smile. “But should 
this make you all discontented with your places in 
the great halls where you live, then should I be sorry 
that the Living Boy wished you alive to-night and 
that I led you here. Seat yourselves upon this mossy 
ground and listen to the story told by a writer who 
well knew what lesssons we all need to learn. Frown 
not, O Performing Bear; it is not a sermon I am 
going to preach, but a Fairy Tale of Master Grimm, 
whom every boy and girl knows, that I am going 
to tell.” 

Then when all were ready he began: 

Once upon a time there was a fisherman and his 
wife who lived together in a hovel by the seashore, 
and the fisherman went out every day with his hook 
and line to fish, and he fished and fished. 

One day he was sitting with his rod and looking 
into the clear water, and he sat and sat. 

At last down went the line to the bottom of 
the sea, and when he drew it up he found a great 
flounder on the hook. And the flounder said to 
him, 

“Fisherman, listen to me. Let me go; I am not a 

12 





AN OLD CLEARING 

Alexander H. Wyant 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


J TERE we go over the frame and up the hillside by the side of the cool 
^ -*■ little brook, up among the trees at the topi Just the right place for the 
Frolic of the Bronze People and Animals, for they can run in and out among 
the trees or wade in the brook! I think you will like the way the trees, 
the brook, and the rocks are placed, the beauty of the lights and darks, and I 
am sure you will like the colors—the greens and the yellows—when you see 
the picture. 














PAN’S FROLIC WITH THE BRONZE FOLK 


real fish, but an enchanted prince. What good shall 
I be to you if you do land me. I shall not taste well; 
so put me back into the water again and let me swim 
away.” 

“Well,” said the fisherman, “no need of so many 
words about the matter; as you can speak, I had 
much rather let you swim away.” 

Then he put him back into the clear water, and 
the flounder sank to the bottom. Then the fisherman 
got up and went home to his wife in their hovel. 

“Well, husband/' said the wife, “have you caught 
nothing to-day?” 

“No,” said the man—“that is, I did catch a 
flounder, but as he said he was an enchanted prince, 
I let him go again.” 

“Then, did you wish for nothing?” asked the 
wife. 

“No,” said the man. “What should I wish for, 
anyway?” 

“Oh dear!” said the wife, “I’m tired of living in 
this evil-smelling hovel. Go again and call him and 
tell him we want a stone castle. I dare say he will 
give it to us. Go, and be quick.” 

When the fisherman went back, the sea was green 

13 




PAN THE PIPER 


and yellow, and not nearly so clear. So he stood and 
said: 

“O man, O man!—if man you be, 

Or flounder, flounder, in the sea— 

Such a tiresome wife I've got, 

For she wants what I do not.” 

Then the flounder came swimming up, and said, 
“Now, then, what does she want?” 

“Oh,” said the man, “you know when I caught 
you my wife says I ought to have wished for some¬ 
thing. She says she is tired of our ill-smelling hovel 
and would rather live in a stone castle.” 

“Go home with you,” said the flounder; “she has 
it alreadv.” 

So the man went home, and there stood in the 
place of the hovel a great castle of stone, and his wife 
was standing on the steps, about to go in; so she took 
him by the hand and said: 

“Let us enter.” 

With that he went in with her, and in the castle 
was a great hall with a marble pavement, and there 
were a great many servants, who led them through 
large doors, and the passages were decked with tapes- 

14 




PAN’S FROLIC WITH THE BRONZE FOLK 


tries, and the rooms with golden chairs and tables, 
and crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling; 
and all the rooms had carpets. And the tables were 
covered with dainties for anyone who wished them. 
And at the back of the house was a great stable- 
vard for horses and cattle, and carriages of the 
finest; besides, there was a splendid large garden 
with the most beautiful flowers and fine fruit trees, 
and a park full half a mile long, with deer and 
oxen and sheep, and everything that heart could 
wish for. 

“There!” said the wife, “is not this beautiful?” 

“Oh yes,” said the man. “If it will only last, we 
can live in this fine castle and be very well 
contented.” 

“We will see about that,” said the wife. “In the 
meanwhile we will sleep upon it.” With that they 
went to bed. 

The next morning the wife was awake first, just at 
the break of day, and she looked out and saw from 
her bed the beautiful country lying all around. The 
man took no notice of it, so she poked him in the 
side with her elbow, and said: 

“Husband, get up and just look out of the window. 

15 




PAN THE PIPER 


Look! Just think if we could be king over all this 
country. Just go to your fish and tell him we should 
like to be king.” 

“Now, wife,” said the man, “what should we be 
kings for? I don’t want to be king.” 

“Well,” said the wife, “if you don’t want to be 
king, I will be king.” 

“Now, wife,” said the man, “what do you want to 
be king for? I could not ask him such a thing.” 

“Why not?” said the wife. “You must go directly 
all the same; I must be king.” 

So the man went, very much put out that his wife 
should want to be king. 

“It is not the right thing to do—not at all the right 
thing to do,” thought the man. He did not at all 
want to go, and yet he went all the same. 

And when he came to the sea the water was quite 
dark gray, and rushed far inland, and had an ill 
smell. And he stood and said: 

“O man, O man!—if man you be, 

Or flounder, flounder, in the sea— 

Such a tiresome wife I’ve got, 

For she wants what I do not.” 

16 





ROARIXG FORTIES 
Frederick J. Waugh 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


'/ HOSE of you u-ho have been down by the sea will remember how the 
waves come rolling in, some bigger than the others, and many of them 
foam-capped. A painter of the sea has to think as much about the filling of 
space, the form—this time of waves—of light and dark, of color, in fact of 
all the Secrets of Beauty, as do the painters of people, animals or trees. A 
painter of the sea has to make his color reveal the depth of the water, too. 






























































































PAN’S FROLIC WITH THE BRONZE FOLK 


“Now, then, what does she want?” said the fish. 

“Oh dear!" said the man, “she wants to be king." 

“Go home with you; she is so already,” said the 
fish. 

So the man went back, and as he came to the castle 
he saw it was very much larger, and had great towers 
and splendid gateways; the herald stood before the 
door, and a number of soldiers with kettledrums and 
trumpets. 

And when he went inside everything was of mar¬ 
ble and gold, and there were many curtains with 
great golden tassels. Then he went through to where 
the great throne room was, and there was his wife 
sitting upon a throne of gold and diamonds, and 
she had a great golden crown on, and the scepter in 
her hand was of pure gold and jewels, and on each 
side stood six pages in a row, each one a head shorter 
than the other. So the man went up to her and said: 

“Well, wife, so now you are king!" 

“Yes," said the wife, “now I am king." 

So then he stood and looked at her, and when he 
had gazed at her for some time he said, 

“Well, wife, this is fine for you to be king! Now 
there is nothing more to wish for." 

17 




PAN THE PIPER 


“Oh, husband!” said the wife, seeming quite rest¬ 
less. “I am tired of this already. Go to your fish 
and tell him that, now I am king, I must be pope.” 

“Now, wife,” said the man, “what do you want to 
be pope for? What is it that you don’t want? You 
can never become pope; there is but one pope in 
Christendom, and the fish can’t possibly do it.” 

“Husband,” said she, “no more words about it; I 
must and will be pope; so go along to the fish.” 

“Now, wife,” said the man, “how can I ask him 
such a thing? It is too bad—it is asking a little 
too much; and, besides, he could not do it.” 

“What rubbish!” said the wife. “If he could make 
me king he can make me pope. Go along and ask 
him. Remember, I am king and you are only my 
husband, so go you must.” 

So away he went, feeling very frightened, and he 
shivered and shook and his knees trembled; for a 
great wind arose on the land, the clouds flew across 
the sky, and it grew as dark as night. The leaves 
fell from the trees, and the water foamed and dashed 
upon the shore. In the distance the ships were being 
tossed to and fro on the waves, and he heard them 
firing signals of distress. There was still a little patch 

18 






THE NORTHEASTER 
Winslow Homer 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


r 1 1 HERE is no doubt that a storm is coming; you know it—even without 
•*- the color—by the dark and threatening sky, the wind-lashed sea, the surf 
thundering against the rocks. No wonder the fisherman’s knees trembled, and 
his voice stuck in his throat! The American artist who painted this picture 
loved the sea in all its different moods, happy and calm or angry and rough, 
and he studied it all his life. 







PAN'S FROLIC WITH THE BRONZE FOLK 


of blue in the sky among the dark clouds, but toward 
the south thev were red and heavy, as in a bad storm. 

And he felt very desponding, and stood trembling 
and said: 

“O man, O man!—if man you be, 

Or flounder, flounder, in the sea— 

Such a tiresome wife I’ve got, 

For she wants what I do not.” 

“Well, what now?” said the fish. 

“Oh dear!” said the man, “she wants to be pope.” 

“Go home with you; she is pope already,” said 
the fish. 

So he went home, and found himself before a 
great church, with palaces all around. He had to 
make his way through a crowd of people; and when 
he got inside he found the place lighted up with 
thousands and thousands of lights; and his wife was 
clothed in a golden garment, and sat upon a very 
high throne, and had three golden crowns on, all 
in the greatest priestly pomp; and on both sides of 
her there stood two rows of candles of all sizes—the 
biggest as thick as a tower, down to the tiniest little 
taper. Kings and emperors were on their knees 
before her, kissing her shoe. 


19 





PAN THE PIPER 


“Well, wife,” said the man, and stood and stared 
at her, “so you are pope.” 

“Yes,” said she, “now I am pope!” 

And he went on gazing at her till he felt dazzled, 
as if he were sitting in the sun. And after a little 
time he said: 

“Well, now, wife, what is there left to be, now you 
are pope?” 

And she sat very stiff and straight, and answered 
never a word. 

And he said again, “Well, wife, I hope you are 
contented at last with being pope; you can be nothing 
more.” 

“We will see about that,” said the wife. With 
that they both went to bed; but she was as far 
as ever from being contented, and she could not 
get to sleep for thinking of what she should like 
to be next. 

The husband, however, slept as fast as a top after 
his busy day; but the wife tossed and turned from 
side to side the whole night through, thinking all the 
while what she could be next, but never a thought 
would occur to her; and when she saw the red 
dawn she slipped off the bed and sat before the 


20 




PAN’S FROLIC WITH THE BRONZE FOLK 


windows to see the sun rise, and as it came up she 
said: 

“Ah, I have it! What if I should make the sun 
and moon to rise! Husband!” she cried, and stuck 
her elbow in his ribs, “wake up and go to your fish, 
and tell him I want power over the sun and moon.” 

The man was so fast asleep that when he started 
up he fell out of bed. Then he shook himself 
together and opened his eyes and said: 

“Oh, wife, what did you say?” 

“Husband,” said she, “if I cannot get the power 
of making the sun and moon rise when I want them, 
I shall never have another quiet hour. Go to the 
fish and tell him so.” 

“Oh, wife!” said the man, and fell on his knees 
to her, “the fish can really not do that for you. I 
grant you he could make you emperor and pope; 
do be contented with that, I beg of you.” 

And she became wild with impatience, and 
screamed out, “I can wait no longer; go at 

m 

once! 

So off he went as well as he could for fright. 
And a dreadful storm arose, so that he could hardly 
keep his feet; and the houses and trees were blown 

21 




PAN THE PIPER 


down, and the mountains trembled, and rocks fell 
in the sea; the sky was quite black, and it thundered 
and lightened; and the waves, crowned with foam, 
ran mountains high. So he cried out, without being 
able to hear his own words: 

“O man, O man!—if man you be, 

Or flounder, flounder, in the sea— 

Such a tiresome wife I’ve got, 

For she wants what I do not.” 

“Well, what now?” said the flounder. 

“Oh dear!” said the man, she wants to order about 
the sun and moon.” 

“Go home with you,” said the flounder; “you will 
find her in the old hovel.” 

And there they are sitting to this very day. 

When Pan ceased speaking, there was silence for 
a moment, until suddenly the Dog barked out: 

“I don’t mind going back to my place in the 
Museum where people may see me as they pass. 
“Nor I! Nor I!” came the other voices. 

“Maybe we, as we stand in our places within the 
great halls, will bring joy and happiness to the living 


22 




PAN'S FROLIC WITH THE BRONZE FOLK 


boys and girls and ‘grown-ups,’ ” murmured the 
smiling Mother, as she held her baby close. 

“Now that you are content once more,” said Pan, 
smiling happily, “play and frolic together in these 
woods, until you shall hear the music of my pipes, 
when back we go unto our places until some other 
boy or girl will wish us into Fairy Folk once more, 
when we can live and frolic as we may to-night!” 



23 









A CHRISTMAS 
GIFT 






A Christmas Gift 


INTRODUCTION 

/ /TO A DER how many boys and girls—not only 
in New York City, but all over the world—have 
been shouting lately: “Hooray! It*s nearly Christ¬ 
mas!** To some of us it means going out into the coun¬ 
try, maybe to Grandmother s, where we can take our 
sleds that can hardly find a place to go in the city 
streets, and go coasting down icy, crusty hillsides, 
with the sweep of the wind helping us along, and the 
sting of it on our faces, and the feel of it laughing 
around our ears and playfully blowing our hair. 
Then, when we are all red of cheek and full of life and 
the fun of living, we stand for a moment and drink in 
the beauty of the out-of-doors—the soft piles of snow 
and the dazzling, jewel-like coatings of ice upon the 
branches of the great oaks and maples, and the ever¬ 
green spruce and pine and fir, with the icicle patterns 
catching the sunlight and sparkling like thousands 




INTRODUCTION 


of tiny rainbows; the bushes bent over with the deli¬ 
cate, soft snowflakes till they look like the homes of 
Snow Fairies that must have come down from the 
clouds riding daintily upon the petals of the snow- 
flowers. There is the red chimney peeping up above 
the sloping roof, and coming from it the most beauti¬ 
ful curling, curving, winding smoke, all pearly gray 
in the sunlight, as it trails off toward the far-away 
hills that look a grayish purple-blue as they rest so 
peacefully against the clear, dark blue of the sky, or 
the hazy clouds which are beginning to gather and 
which may mean—and we hope it does—a regular 
blizzard to-morrow! 

To some of us it means a city Christmas, but in the 
windows there are wreaths all tied with red bows, 
and—although there aren't real Christmas ever¬ 
green trees growing out-of-doors—we have them 
right inside, with candles on and gold and silver 
stars; or perhaps we hang up our stockings just as 
Father and Mother used to do, and Santa Claus 
comes in the night just as well in the city as in the 
country and helps fill them to the very toe! It may 
be we go to church in the evening, and sing our 
praises with the rest and listen to the music of the 

28 







INTRODUCTION 


Chistmas carols echoing and re-echoing in among 
the arches and even reaching up into the lofty dome. 

There are others of us—many of us—to whom 
Christmas means no gifts, no happy times with rela¬ 
tives and friends, but the same sort of day as other 
days, save the rare treat in the evening of going out 
to see, in the churchyard or park, the giant Christmas 
tree, its top rising high up into the air and seeming 
to point farther up than the tops of the many-storied 
buildings, the golden star on its highest branch 
reaching up to the silver stars in the evening sky. 
Suddenly we hear the chorus of many voices singing 
together the Christmas hymns and ballads, and the 
whole tree shimmers with its festoons of star-lights, 
and sends through us little shivers of delight at the 
beauty of it all. 

There are those of us, alas! who have not even 
this, not because we are poor in wealth—for even 
the poorest of us can enjoy the singing and the big, 
star-lighted trees which are for all, and many of the 
poorest in dollars and cents are the richest in the 
spirit of happiness—but because of sickness and sor¬ 
row > which have come to us ourselves or to those who 
mean the most to us. 


29 





INTRODUCTION 


But all of us—no matter how or where we live — 
can understand the Spirit of Christmas time, bid¬ 
ding us be happy a?id to bear good will to everyone. 
I thought that to-day—being so very near Christmas 
time—we would let the Spirit of Christmas show us 
one way of finding happiness; and then, maybe, if 
we do find out, we can show others; and if s surely 
worth while to discover such a secret, isn’t it? For 
I’m very certain that all of us would like to discover 
all the ways we can to be happy, for it’s so much 
better fun! 





A Christmas Gift 

LEEP on, O children of the city, 

On this glorious Christmas Eve; 

But in your dreams on bright moonbeams 
All those may go who want to know 
Where Beauty lies. 

“In summer skies, in shadowed woods, 

On the rainbow-colored seas; 

On wind-swept hills, by murmuring rills, 
In city crowds or patterned clouds— 
There Beauty is. 

“In shimmering silks or velvet’s sheen; 

On a frost-carved windowpane. 

In all design, whether large or fine, 

On rug or lace or sword or vase— 

There Beauty lies. 

31 










PAN THE PIPER 


“In the curl of smoke, or a full white sail; 

On a snow-crowned mountain top ; 

In the sun-warmed sand or a baby’s hand— 

In Day and Night and Shade and Light 
Is Beauty. 

“So join me, children, and we’ll search 
For Beauty and for Joy. 

We’ll use our eyes and, lo! Beauty lies 
Near and far and all around; above, below, and on the 
ground— 

“We’ll find Beauty!” 

Thus sang the Fairies of Good Will and Happi¬ 
ness as they flew up and down and across the city, 
causing all the boys and girls who still believed in 
the Spirit of Christmas—especially those whose lives 
would be made happier by what the Fairies were 
going to help them to see—dream happy dreams. 

The moonlight shone in the windows—at least as 
much as it ever does shine into the crowded city 
homes—and the boys and girls smiled as the Fairies 
appeared before them. Then swiftly and softly, so 
softly that no others in the great houses heard, all 
bright and shining like the two Fairies themselves, 
they floated right out on the moonbeams into the 
December night. They were not cold, but seemed 

32 








IN THE GARDEN 
George De Forest Brush 
Courtesy of The 
Metropolitan Museum 
of Art 

Just see how the lines of 
the drapery fit into one 
another, and how very 
real the mother and her 
children look! 











A CHRISTMAS GIFT 


to be a part of the night itself, and if anyone had 
looked up as they sped along they would have said. 
u How bright are the stars, most of all those that seem 
to be following the two bigger and brighter ones on 
ahead!” 

“How many of you like a secret?” asked Happi¬ 
ness of all the little moonbeam boys and girls. 

“I do!” they all cried together, with one voice, so 
mingling with the rushing of the wind that whoever 
might have been listening on the earth would have 
thought it just a louder winter blast. 

“Hear then,” she answered, smiling. “One of the 
Secrets of Happiness which not only goes to make 
up the Spirit of Christmas, but is for all times; it is 
the knowing how to see Beauty. Some of us do 
know, but many of us have never learned how, so we 
will learn how to see it to-night and it will be just as 
exciting a game as Hunting for Hidden Treasure! 

“The very best place to go and the easiest to reveal 
the Secret will be the great Museum of Art, for we 
can find many kinds of Beautv there.” 

* j 

With that they flew right above the Park where 
the ground and trees were so white with snow that 
the children almost believed they were in the coun- 

33 




PAN THE PIPER 


try, where they often longed to be. “Quickly, now, 
right through the windows,” exclaimed both Fairies 
together, and at once the moonbeams shone upon 
the great building until it was all alight from roof 
to street, and straight in through the windows, on the 
moonbeams, glided the tiny boys and girls, making 
each great gallery and long corridor almost as bright 
as noonday. 

“Follow us!” gayly called Good Will and Happi¬ 
ness, and the many children danced along behind 
them until they came to the very front of the 
building. 

“There are many treasures and secrets connected 
with Beauty,” smiled Happiness as they stood in 
front of a statue of a graceful dancing woman called 
“Bacchante,” holding a little baby on one arm and 
a bunch of grapes high up in the air with her other 
hand. “This bronze dancing lady was made by the 
mind and hands of an American sculptor who has 
learned all these secrets: how to see Beauty with his 
eyes, and, having seen it, how to feel it and express 
it with his fingers so that others may see and enjoy.” 

What fun they had, each one standing on a tiny 
foot and trying to keep a balance as the statue did. 

34 





THE WAVE 
Hokusai 

Courtesy of I he Metropolitan Museum of .Art 


T TERE is the Japanese Wave with its line sweeping up to the crest, 
J where it breaks and forms a snowy pattern. I know you will like the 
deep sea color and the motion of the line in the curve of the wave, making 
for Rhythm, one of our Secrets of Beauty. 




















































A CHRISTMAS GIFT 


“Just look at all the Rhythm or Motion in this 
figure,” said Good Will. “Follow with your eyes— 
for even fairy hands might harm—the movement of 
the line from the hand on one side to the tips of the 
toes on the other. It's not a bit like the carved pic¬ 
tures the Egyptians made and which you can see 
right over yonder, for everything is Balanced there, 
giving the feeling of Rest rather than of Motion, 
and Symmetrical, since both sides of the figures are 
alike. Dig for your Hidden Treasure now, and 
let’s see how long it will be before you can find some¬ 
thing else that speaks of Rhythm, one of the Secrets 
of Beauty for which we are seeking!” 

Such a rustling and a whispering as there was 

in the halls, and such a sound of tinkling laughter, 

though if anyone had been passing through he would 

have seen only the brightness of the moonbeams and 

the starlight—quite unusually bright—even for a 

Christmas Eve! And he would have heard only the 

softest and sweetest of music, thinking it must be 

the far-awav strains of Christmas carols or the 
* 

singing of the Stars! 

“I have found it!” came the sound of a little voice 
upstairs, and from away off in another Dart of the 

35 








PAN THE PIPER 


building, so very faint that it almost seemed an echo, 
could be heard, “Fve found the most beautiful 
pattern of lines and colors!” 

The moonbeams followed along until they came to 
a painting of greens and browns and just a bit of 
red, which goes so well with green, in contrast. 

“Why, it’s just a picture of a real mother with her 
baby and little boy!” exclaimed a surprised little girl 
who had fancied that Beauty belonged only to what 
was a little different from the “everyday” things they 
could see all around them. “I’ve often seen mother 
stand on Third Avenue in front of our stoop with 
brother and sister in just this way, only ’course they 
didn’t wear long robes like these nor just the same 
colors, but they were as pretty and baby’s hair was 
just as yellow!” 

Good Will and Happiness clapped their hands in 
delight. “You’ve stumbled right on to another 
secret! You can find Beauty in everyday things— 
your mother, your baby brother, the colors in the 
clothes they wear, and the way they look together. 
We shall call forth the Color Fairies before you go, 
but first let’s look at the Rhythm the boy has found, 
no doubt just as beautiful as the color patterns which 

36 






HARP OF THE WINDS: 

A VIEW ON THE SEINE 
Homer D. Martin 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


TF you look first at the rocks and the trees on the left, the little village with 
•* the old houses and the church spire will lead you to the delicate trees a bit 
to the right of the center, just where Mr. Martin wanted you to look. You 
will like the repetition—also making for Rhythm—of the harplike trees and 
their reflection in the water. 




















A CHRISTMAS GIFT 


this American painter has brought together here, 
and the pattern of the lines which all fit into one 
another. ” 

Way over in the Japanese print room they found 
the boy, one finger pointing excitedly at the picture 
of Hokusai’s Wave. “See!” he cried out. “It’s just 
like the real ocean I saw last summer when we went 
across on the ferrv on a windy day, only I didn’t 
think then what a beautiful pattern waves make when 
they turn over and spill out all their foam!” 

“O-o-h! We can almost feel the spray!” the other 
children declared, some of them holding out their 
little hands as if they could catch the drops that were 
falling from the lacy patterns of the foam. ”1 could 
look all day at the top of the wave where it’s break¬ 
ing,” sang a little pale girl whom the great salt sea 
would do so much good. “The wonderful blue- 
green colors!” whispered the others. 

“Behold!” cried the Fairies, then; and in a flash, 
at the holding up of their wands, the Blues and 
Greens and the snowy White took form and life and 
danced up and down in the silver light, joined by 
many others. There were the emerald Green and 
the rich red Brown they had liked so well in the 

37 




PAN THE PIPER 


picture of the mother with her babies; such glori¬ 
ous Yellow and Orange and delicate Violet and 
Gray. Such beautiful Color Harmonies they made 
as they flitted this way and that and up and down in 
the white moonlight. Now six of them in their vari¬ 
ous colored, shimmering robes stood forth in a row, 
each color merging into the next—Red, Orange, 
Yellow, Green, Blue, and Violet—until there arose 
from the throats of the many boys and girls, “They’re 
making a rainbow!” Some just shook their little 
heads. “We’ve never seen a real rainbow ’cause the 
housetops go up so high, but we can remember this 
and maybe some day see one in the sky!” 

Fairy Happiness held up her hand, and three 
Color Fairies—in the clearest of Red and Yellow 
and Blue—stepped forward, right into the strongest 
starlight and the brightest moonlight. “We are the 
Pure Colors,” they curtsied, “and you will find us 
everywhere, for everything in the world has color 
of some kind. From us other colors are made. 
Watch closely!” 

There was a whirling of skirts and draperies; the 
Blue Fairy and the Yellow whirled around many 
times, their draperies mingling, until when they 

38 








— I— 



CONNIE GILCHRIST 
J. A. M. Whisder 
Courtesy of The 
Metropolitan Museum 
of Art 

The Christmas children 
discovered that this pic¬ 
ture of the Girl Jumping 
Rope was all in different 
tones of one color. 


















A CHRISTMAS GIFT 


stopped and stood with arms closely entwined it 
seemed to the moonbeam children that a Fairy all in 
Green stood before them next to the one in Red, who 
held out her hand and said, “This is my Complement; 
you see how well we look together!” The music of 
their laughter was heard again, Red Fairy and Blue 
spun around, and, behold! there stood a Fairy all in 
Purple who made the Yellow seem all the more beau¬ 
tiful. Then the Yellow Fairy whirled around with 
the Red until there came forth one in the warmest 
Orange who looked so well beside the cool Blue. 

As they skipped and danced in and out, they 
chanted: 

“Color here and color there— 

Color around us everywhere; 

From Yellow, Red, and Blue—three colors that are true— 

Grow Orange, Green, and Violet, and more Hues of us 
than you’ve seen yet! 

And 

When the rainbow spans the brightening sky 

Six colors are shining there on high: 

Green, Blue, and Violet—the coolest colors that you’ve 
met; 

Orange, Yellow, Red—warm as the light of the sun that's 
said 


39 




PAN THE PIPER 


To hold us all! 

So 

Watch for us and search for us 

In picture and rug and jar. 

Hunt for us, look for us 

In and out and near and far. 

For we are Color Rhythm, cool, or warm and light; 

Sometimes dimmed with a little Gray, but often gleaming 
bright!” 

And behold! The Blues and Greens went skipping 
back into Hokusai’s Wave, and the other colors into 
their pictures, vases, and rugs. “You can find us 
not only here, but at home, in the parks and the 
streets!” came back faintly as they took their places 
in the color patterns and harmonies. 

“We are ready now—all of us—to hunt for other 
Hidden Treasures of Beauty,” called Good Will and 
Happiness: “Rhythm or beautiful movement of line 
and color; Balance, or rest in line so that there is 
just as much quiet on one side of the figure as on the 
other; Color in all its purity, its tones, and its pat¬ 
terns; and Light and Dark. There are other Secrets 
of Beauty, too, but if we can learn to find these, the 
others we can have for the asking. Hurry now, 
because before the Dawn comes, and the Sun, which 

40 





A CHRISTMAS GIFT 


contains all the 
bright colors, carry¬ 
ing them to the 
grass, the flowers, 
and the trees, we 
must capture our 
moonbeams and be 
w a f t e d home in 
time to be up to 
greet Christmas 
morning!” 

Such a hurrying 
and dancing as there 
was—this way and 
that—of the moon¬ 
beams and the tiny 
boys and girls; first 
the silver light of 
the moon would 
light up this picture 
or that; the Chinese 
porcelains with 



JAPANESE BROCADE 

OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 

This beautiful Japanese brocade shows rhythm or 
motion in the lines of the patterns—the birds, the 
clouds, and the flowers. 


their wonderful color harmonies for all the world 
like music; the Roman glass with the rainbow 


4i 








PAN THE PIPER 


colors; the old oak chests with their patterns so 
carved that they belonged to the spaces they had to 
decorate, and full of rhythm and dignity. They ex¬ 
claimed over the warm, rich colors in the Persian 
and Indian rugs, tripping hand in hand among the 
trees and flowers and down the garden walks lighted 
by the moonbeams. 

“Why, here’s a picture all painted in the same 
color, only some parts are light and some are ‘middle’ 
colors, and some are dark—just like the Three 
Bears!’’ chuckled the yellow-haired boy, “but it’s 
mostly all in Brown.” 

“It’s like the tones in music,” suggested Happi¬ 
ness, who stood behind him, “and it fairly seems to 
sing, just as all of Mr. Whistler’s pictures do. This 
one shows a girl jumping rope, so-” 

“Action, Rhythm—and not Balance!” cried the 
moonbeam boys and girls, delighted that they could 
see and understand those Secrets of Beauty,humming: 

“Sing, Colors, Sing! 

Ring, Music, Ring! 

Light Brown, Golden Brown, Dark Brown, too! Browns 
of many a tone and hue! 

Rhythm in Color and Rhythm in Line—- 
Here in this picture we see combine!” 


42 








EVENING AT MEDFIELD 
George Inness 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


TF you could only see this in color, you would enjoy the sunset sky in the 
autumn. You can see that Mr. Inness has so arranged the Pattern of his 
picture that you can follow the man trudging along the darkening ground in 
front to the little cottage tucked in among the trees at the left, and then across 
the hills in the background to the great bare tree with its branches stretching 
up into the sky filled with the colors of the afterglow. Here we have Beauty 
of Space-filling. 














A CHRISTMAS GIFT 


So many secrets did they find and so many more 
did they want to find, that the Fairies Good Will and 
Happiness had to hurry them along, for already the 
starlight and the moonlight were not quite so bright 
as before. 

“We must look longest at a Christmas picture, 
since it is Christmas Eve," smiled Happiness. “Look 
now at what one of our American artists has made us 
see for a ‘December Night.' " 

The moonlight fell upon the picture, showing the 
star-sprinkled sky, the snow-covered hill leading to 
the little house in the distance, and in the foreground, 
rising from the snow-laden earth, the evergreen 
trees. 

“It was Christmas Eve,” began Good Will, “and 
for three days the snow had been falling, until it had 
tucked in the little house on the hill almost up to its 
windows, and had covered the shrubs and bushes in 
the woods and folded its downy white coverlet over 
the flowers so that they might sleep, and over the 
roots of the trees. Even the branches of the little 
spruce and pine trees that peeped out of the edges 
of the wood and nodded often toward the still, little 
house on the hill, were white. 

43 




PAN THE PIPER 


“The soft flakes had grown bigger and came less 
and less close together that afternoon, until, just 
as the day was nearly drawing to its close, they 
stopped floating down altogether, and a rather cold 
sun showed his head for a little while, leaving a 
faint pink in the western sky as he settled himself to 
rest. 

“By the window of the little house—the one that 
looked down the hill toward the woods—sat the 
whitest and unhappiest-looking little boy. He rested 
his head heavily upon his hand, and as I hovered near 
—quite invisible to him—I could hear him sigh right 
from the depths of his weary little heart. ‘Oh dear!’ 
he sighed, and then again: ‘Oh dear! If only I 
could run about and play and slide downhill like 
other boys. The days are so long with no one here 
but Grandmother and old Bill, and nothing to see 
inside but the same old chairs and stove and old rag 
rugs; and nothing outside but just snow and snow 
and more snow, and those same old trees at the en¬ 
trance to the wood. I wish I could see and hear 
something new!’ And once more he sighed and put 
his thin white hands wearily behind his head. My 
sister Happiness and I, who are always near to boys 

44 








A DECEMBER XIGHT 
\V. A. Coffin 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


TTERE is the Christmas picture with the star-sprinkled sky and the little 
snow-wrapped house. On Christmas Eve, you ’ll remember, the Boy 
was taken down the hill to the trees that fringed the wood. There it was 
that he saw the beauty of the snowflake dance, the swaying trees with their 
strange patterns on the white ground, and the Christmas stars. 















A CHRISTMAS GIFT 


and girls, especially on Christmas Eve, right then 
and there decided that we would make him happy 
and show and tell him something new, especially 
when he whispered with his face close against the 
frosty windowpane: ‘And it’s Christmas to-morrow 
and I just know there'll be no tree nor stockings by 
the chimney place; not even any gifts, for Grand¬ 
mother could not get out, nor even Bill, and no sleigh 
nor reindeer team could ever get here in these drifts.’ 

“Purple-blue grew the sky, and the stars gleamed 
—always brighter on a Christmas Eve—and in the 
evening light the snow took a purple hue as if the 
violets were peeping through, and the trees at 
the entrance of the wood were dark green, looking 
almost black as the darkness gathered. Grand¬ 
mother nodded by the fire, sorry in her heart for the 
boy, who could only walk upon his crutches, and 
sorry that she had no way of making a Christmas 
for him. Old Bill slumbered audibly in his chair by 
the kitchen fire, and the boy peered out into the night. 

“Softly the Wind shook the tiny windowpanes, and 
the boy, looking out, saw Sister and me all shining 
in the starlight. ‘Come.’ we beckoned, and the boy, 
his big eyes growing dark with excitement, allowed 

45 




PAN THE PIPER 


himself to be wrapped ever so gently in Grand¬ 
mother’s patchwork quilt and taken out-of-doors 
where the strong arms of the Wind—sometimes 
boisterous, it is true, but often as gentle as the ten- 
derest of mothers—held him. Down the snowy hill¬ 
side we blew, much more quickly than if we were 
coasting on sleds, until, rosy and out of breath, we 
stopped near the trees at the foot of the hill and close 
to the wood. 

“ ‘Come,’ whispered a graceful Spruce as she 
swayed down toward the boy and held her branches 
over him to shield him from the winter air. ‘We 
will help keep thee warm,’ murmured the many 
snowflakes on the ground, as they lightly floated over 
him, wafted by the kindly Wind; while beneath the 
snow the boy could feel gentle movements and he 
thought he could smell the violets. 

“ ‘It is Christmas Eve!’ whispered the Wind, and, 
‘It is Christmas Eve!’ sang the Trees, while all the 
Snowflake Fairies danced and whirled in soft white 
clouds among the trees, some of them even catching 
the highest branches.” 

“‘Hear the church bells ring!’ we cried,” said 
Happiness, taking her turn at the story. ‘And listen 

46 






A CHRISTMAS GIFT 


to the music of the Stars, for they rejoice that it is 
Christmas Eve and are singing their praises just as 
the people here on the earth and the Angels above. 
At this glorious time of Love and Joy we want all to 
be happy, boy, so, though thou canst not slide and 
skate nor have gifts this year, yet thou canst see new 
things as thou didst wish, and thou canst find Beauty 
where thou hast seen it not. Look around thee now!’ 
And the boy looked and learned how to see with 
those great brown eyes of his which had not known 
how to see or enjoy but very few of the wonderful 
Secrets of Beauty. He saw the moonlight brighten 
the frost and snow covered green of the spruce and 
pine, and he saw the shadows of the branches making 
strange patterns on the white ground. He looked 
with all his eager little eyes at the dance of the Wind 
and the Llakes of Snow, more graceful and more 
beautiful than any ballroom dance could be. 

“ ‘See the Glory of the Stars,’ sang the Wind, and 
the topmost branches of the trees lifted skyward, and 
the lowest branches tried to see, while the boy peeped 
up through the spaces between the white-frosted 
boughs straight up at the Christmas Star which 
glowed in the east. 


47 




PAN THE PIPER 


“ ‘In the cities the great churches are crowded,’ 
murmured the Wind, ‘but nowhere is there a temple 
any more beautiful than this, nor one with so high 
a dome, but the city folk as well as those of us who 
dwell in the open can see the same Sky and Stars and 
Moon.’ 

“ ‘To-morrow—Christmas morning—when thou 
dost waken,’ we said to the boy as we placed him 
safely back in his soft bed-chair by the smoldering 
fire on the hearth, ‘remember to look for Beauty 
inside as well as out, and the seeing of Beauty will 
bring thee Happiness.’ 

“Christmas morning awoke clear and crisp and 
cold; old Bill put some extra logs on the fire, and 
when the boy opened his eyes he thought at once of 
what we had said, and he just raised up his head and 
hunted and hunted for Beauty. First he looked out- 
of-doors. ‘The snow sparkles even more in the sun¬ 
light than it did last night in the moonlight,’ he said 
to himself. ‘Merry Christmas!’ he cried as Grand¬ 
mother came into the room, dreading that her boy 
would find a sad Christmas morning. ‘See!’ he ex¬ 
claimed again, with more light in his eyes than there 
had been for many days past—‘see the frost pattern 

' 48 








THE SILENT DAWN 
W. L. Palmer 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


T ZOU can almost feel the stillness and the coldness of the deep woods. 

Perhaps we are looking at the very spruce which swayed down toward 
the Boy and held her branches over him to keep him warm. Soon there will 
be a flurry of snowflakes through the air, wafted by the Wind. It’s a 
regular Christmas picture ! 





A CHRISTMAS GIFT 


on the window! There are flowers in it, and leaves, 
and I know it was done by the Frost just for us; and, 
oh, Grandmother, look there by the door! There’s 
one of the evergreen trees I saw last night, the very 
one that kept me warm under its branches, and I’m 
sure the good Wind brought it here for a Christmas 
tree, and the Snow Fairies have stayed right on the 
boughs!’ 

“Grandmother smiled at his fancy, but she began 
to sing in a soft high voice a bit of a Christmas carol, 
as she and Bill set up the tree—the little evergreen 
tree that had so willingly left its place on the edge 
of the wood to bring Beauty and Happiness and 
Christmas Cheer to the little house on the hill. What 
fun they had decorating it with bits of colored paper 
—red and green, yellow and purple, blue and 
orange, until, with the white of the corn which old 
Bill popped, there were Color Harmonies and 
patterns on the tree. 

“ T never knew Colors were so beautiful before,’ 
confided the boy to Grandma as they later sat in front 
of the fire and the gayly decorated little evergreen 
tree. ‘Why, there’s lots of Beauty in that plate of 
shiny red apples!’ 


49 






PAN THE PIPER 


“ ‘Of course there is,’ twinkled Grandmother, nod¬ 
ding her head, ‘and right here in all the color pat¬ 
terns on the patchwork quilt I’m making!’ 

“What fun it was, then, to help place the colors 
together; the pure colors next to their complements, 
and then sometimes all the different shades they could 
find of one color. 

“ ‘It’s been a wonderful Christmas day, and I’m 
always going to hunt for the Secrets of Beauty, 
Grandma!’ 

“Grandma smiled such an understanding smile, 
and listened so tenderly to what Sister and I taught 
the boy on Christmas Eve, and he remembered and 
repeated that Christmas night: 

“ ‘Soft flakes of snow upon the ground; 

Fluttering, clustering stars of white; 

Twinkling lights in the purple sky 
Letting fall their brilliant light 
On the wind-tossed spruce and pine 
Branches heaped with the white 
Of ice and snow in lace design. 

Golden paths from out the windows 
Of the home on the snow-heaped hill; 
Welcoming the Spirit of Christmas— 

Love, Beauty, and Good Will!’ 


50 





AN AMERICAN CHEST OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 
Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


1 HIS old oak chest of drawers shows rhythm by the repetition of the 
patterns, and also balance. 































A CHRISTMAS GIFT 


“Then Grandma placed a candle in the window, 
that its golden lignt might shine out in a path upon 
the snow, and as she and the boy looked up at the 
stars she said, ‘Peace, good will to men!’ ” 

“We must hasten," exclaimed the Fairy Sisters 
then, “for already Christmas dawn is near. Mount 
your moonbeams, children, and we will take you to 
your homes; remember to look for Beauty every- 
where, and whenever on Christmas Eve you dream 
happy dreams, know that Good Will and Love, 
Beauty and Happiness are hovering near!" 


5i 








THE TOURNAMENT 
OF A 

DUKE OF BURGUNDY 











The Tournament 
of a Duke of Burgundy 


INTRODUCTION 

J\ /TANY years ago the city of Bruges, in Bel- 
IVJ! gium, was a rich and prosperous town, 
where lived the merchant princes of Burgundy, who 
were really French princes. Strong walls it had , 
and gorgeous palaces, and richer and richer it grew; 
ships came sailing from the sea through the broad 
channels, with goods from far-away lands; splendid 
markets there were, and the people became famous 
for the weaving of fine tapestries. Great builders 
arose who made the city beautiful with churches and 
public buildings, and to the court of the Burgundian 
Du kes, as the rulers of the Duchy of Burgundy were 
called, came famous painters who made those pic¬ 
tures which tell us to-day something about the 
splendor of their times. Among them was the great 


INTRODUCTION 


painter Memlinc. We are taking a trip to Bruges 
in the time of Charles the Bold, a powerful Burgun¬ 
dian prince, whose descendant was the great em¬ 
peror, Charles the Fifth, and the very especial event, 
the festival we are going to witness, is the pageant 
held in the year 1468, when a Princess of England, 
Margaret of York, married this very ambitious Duke 
of Burgundy, Charles the Bold . So let us get into 
a festive spirit so that we may enjoy all the great 
spectacles, especially the far-famed Tournament of 
the Golden Tree held in the market place of Bruges 
—a tournament in which many valiant knights 
contended. 


56 





The Tournament 
of a Duke of Burgundy 



is at length finished,” sighed the 
painter, Hans Memlinc, in his studio 
at Bruges, as he stood back from his 
easel, gazing intently at the altarpiece 
upon which he had been working so 
very eagerly. It had been ordered by 
Sir John Donne of England, who had 
arrived in Bruges with his lady, his 
little daughter, and his two boys to wit¬ 
ness the wonderful celebrations in honor of the mar¬ 
riage of Margaret of York and Charles the Bold, 
Duke of Burgundy. “How like a tender mother is 
the Blessed Virgin! The soft landscape behind only 
makes her the more beautiful. I trust Sir John, your 
father, will be pleased,” and the painter turned to 



57 
















PAN THE PIPER 


smile at the three children in the room as he began 
to clean his brushes. 

“That he will,” answered the bigger of the two 
boys, who had gone to the studio with their smaller 
sister, Elisabeth, that her likeness in the beautiful 
altarpiece might be finished. “I think it is the nicest 
holy picture I have ever seen. I like the Holy Child 
reaching out for the apple which the smiling Angel 
is holding, and all the beautiful deep colors in the 
rich cloth behind the Holy Mother; and I like the 
swans and the watermill in the background.” 

“Sister Elisabeth and mother and father look just 
as real as can be, too,” chirped the younger boy, 
Griffith. “Don’t you wish you had been painted in 
the picture, Edward?” he asked his older brother. 

“Not I,” answered Master Edward in rather a 
superior manner. “I have quite enough to do as it is, 
for is not to-morrow the day of the great procession 
of our Lady Margaret and the magnificent Tourna¬ 
ment of the Golden Tree, and”—impressively— 
“after that the big banquet in the palace? I rather 
well know you are both wishing you could be at that 
banquet, but you see I am older than you and, besides, 
I’m a page of the Lady Margaret!” 

58 






THE TOURNAMENT OF A DUKE 

The importance of his tone fairly wilted his 
younger brother and even younger sister, and they 
gazed at him with that look of adoration which 



MADONNA AND CHILD WITH SAINTS 
Hans Memlinc 

From the collection of the Duke of Devonshire, Chatsworth, England 


Here is the very picture Huns Memlinc was working on at the begining 
of our story, when he made his wager with Master Edward. You can 
see Sir John Donne kneeling at the left, and Lady Donne with little 
Elisabeth kneeling at right. Maybe you will think the way the columns and 
people are arranged is rather stiff and balanced; but 1 know you will like the 
way the angel on the left is playing with the Holy Child, who is made to 
seem like a real baby, even if the anatomy of the little body isn t just right. 
Here, too, is a delightful little landscape in the background. 

pleased him so very much. Even the painter, Mem¬ 
linc, ceased from his work a moment, and looked 
around at the three children with a twinkle in his 

59 
















PAN THE PIPER 


eye. “That pride surely needs a fall,” he muttered 
to himself. 

“Do you like a game of wagers?” he smilingly 
asked the boasting Edward. 

“That I do!” Edward eagerly replied. “All 
knights do.” 

“Well, then,” continued Hans Memlinc, “I 
will wager that Master Griffith and little Elisa¬ 
beth shall appear at the banquet in a way which 
will call forth the attention of the Lady Margaret 
herself!” 

“Oh, you are pleased to jest,” laughed Edward, 
“but I will take your wager as any true knight would. 
If what you say comes true—and I most surely know 
it cannot—I will give you this ring of mine you have 
admired; if not, you, Sir Artist, shall paint me a 
picture! And I am already planning to inclose it 
in a beautiful frame, for Elisabeth and Griffith are 
too small to attend the banquet! ‘No children are 
permittedF I heard father say.” 

“We shall see what we shall see,” smiled the 
painter, as he carefully covered his newly finished 
picture. “It is time now for me to take you to your 
father.” 


60 






THE TOURNAMENT OF A DUKE 


“I hope one day I shall have sons of my own,” he 
chuckled to himself that night as he sat in his low- 
roofed studio, gazing at his newly finished altarpiece 
and often thinking with amusement of the sons of Sir 
John Donne. “Master Edward is going to be a 
much-confounded lad to-morrow night! The Duke 
was most gracious when I suggested to him my little 
plan; one could see that boys and girls were high 
in his favor. What! The hour of a quarter before 
midnight is sounding on the Cathedral bell, and if 
I am to keep the favor of Duke Charles, in whose 
employ I am, and finish painting the emblems of the 
Knights of the Golden Fleece on the wall in front 
of the palace, I must hasten to rest, else I shall not 
have eyes open wide enough to see color on the mor¬ 
row! I will rest my new altarpiece—which Duke 
Charles as well as Sir John was pleased to praise— 
against the wall, light my flickering candle, mount 
the narrow stairs to my gabled room, and dream of 
the festivities of to-morrow. No doubt Master Ed¬ 
ward, little Elisabeth, and Master Griffith are having 
vivid dreams alreadv!” 

It was little Elisabeth who awakened her brothers 
the next morning and urged them to hasten, “else 

61 





PAN THE PIPER 


they wouldn’t see the Lady Margaret enter Bruges 
in her marriage procession.” 

There was festivity in the very air, and the sun 
itself aided by sending down its brightest rays upon 
the gilded palaces, the splendid homes of the mer¬ 
chant princes, and the houses of the Merchant Com¬ 
panies—the Guilds—with their gabled roofs. The 
shopkeepers who had been so busy turning out their 
choicest materials, the weavers of the marvelous tap¬ 
estries ordered by Duke Charles the Bold, the many 
artists who had been putting forth every effort to 
help decorate the city, the makers of the delicate 
“cobweb” lace, were also assembling in the streets, 
along with the folk of every other calling. There 
was color everywhere, and even in the early morning 
there were men busy getting ready the great pyramids 
which later would become mighty bonfires making 
bright the quaint buildings in Bruges, which was 
sometimes called the “Venice of the North.” 

“Here is the best place of all to see,” cried Griffith, 
as he peered from one of the windows of the great 
house where they were being entertained. It’s near 
the market place, too, and that is where the great 
tournament will be held!” 

62 







BRUGES, QUAI DU ROSAIRE 
SHOWING BELFRY 


J 'HIS is the quaint old city where Hans Memlinc lived and where the 
Tournament of the Duke of Burgundy took place. In the very next 
story this bell tower, which you can see peering high above the housetop, will 
appear again. 



















THE TOURNAMENT OF A DUKE 


“I hear the bells and the clarions and trumpets!” 
cried Elisabeth, in delight. “At least I can see this 
part of the procession if I can’t go to-night,” and 
she smiled gleefully at Griffith when Edward was 
not looking, as if they had a delicious secret between 
them. 

“I am going to be an archer some day,” murmured 
Griffith, as the troops of archers in the uniform of 
the English bodyguard could be seen advancing, 
followed by nobles in their rich costumes, with the 
trappings of the horses glittering with gold and gems 
and fringed with tinkling silver bells. 

“The Princess Margaret! Welcome to Bur¬ 
gundy!” shouted the people in great delight, as they 
caught sight of her in a bridal litter covered with 
cloth of gold and drawn by horses decorated with 
the same material. 

“She shines like the sun and the moon,” whispered 
Elisabeth to her mother, watching the play of the 
sunlight on her cloth-of-silver robe and her crown 
decorated with diamonds. 

“There come the Knights of the Golden Fleece! 
Look, Griffith! This afternoon I shall watch their 
combats in the lists!” 


63 




PAN THE PIPER 


Behind came slowly die ladies in die train of Prin¬ 
cess Margaret; some of them were on white horses. 
“They are just like the Princesses sung about by the 
minstrels, mother,” cried the excited Elisabeth. 
Others from Burgundy there were, riding in bright 
chariots on the sides of which shone the arms of 
Burgundy and of England. 

On through the streets the procession went, past 
the houses hung with tapestries gleaming with 
threads of silk and gold. Now it wound through a 
triumphal arch erected in honor of Duke Charles’s 
marriage, and, as the Princess passed, white doves 
were loosened from above so that they might encircle 
her head in a snowy cloud. Stately dignitaries 
marched—Venetians, Florentines—among them 
Thomas Portinari, a banker and councilor of the 
Duke. 

“ ’Tis the same one our painter has made a likeness 
of!” cried Sir John Donne himself. “I knew him 
the moment he appeared, so you can see what a good 
likeness Elans Memlinc made. I hear there are to 
be pageants on the way to the palace, but we must 
return forthwith to our host’s if we are to see the 
Tournament of the Golden Tree this afternoon. Ed- 

64 







EXTRY OF ISABELLE OF BAVARIA INTO PARIS 
From an old French manuscript 


TN just such a procession as this did Margaret of York enter Bruges, and 
all the people welcomed her as the bride of their Duke, Charles the Bold. 
Perhaps you noticed in the frontispiece of the Duke of Burgundy and his 
army, that the foot defences of the armor were very pointed, and in this 
picture we see what very pointed headdresses the Queen and her ladies are 
wearing. Everything was pointed at this time — shoes, parts of the armor, 
headdresses, cathedral towers, spires, and the carved patterns of the windows. 























THE TOURNAMENT OF A DUKE 


ward must attire himself as a page and do credit to 
his training, and since a special invitation came from 
Hans Memlinc—a favor most uncommon—Griffith 
and Elisabeth are to have seats in the window over¬ 
looking the lists," and he, too, exchanged a knowing 
glance with his two younger children and seemed 
to be in their secret. 

In the great public square of Bruges that after¬ 
noon there was a crowd such as the people had never 
seen before. The windows and roofs of the houses 
were crowded and the balconies of the Hotel de 
Ville were filled with the fair ladies of the court. 

“You are indeed welcome," smiled Hans Mem¬ 
linc, as he ushered Sir John Donne, his lady, and the 
three smiling children into his workshop. “Would 
that the room were more fitting, but the view is all 
one could desire; as you will see, looking directly 
down upon the huge platform our Duke has caused 
to be erected, where the judges, marshals, and all the 
officers of the lists have taken their places. Master 
Edward, just place that cushion at your mother’s 
back, for my very best chair deserves not the name 
of ‘comfortable’!" 

“Behold the big Christmas tree!’’ shrilled Elisa- 

65 






PAN THE PIPER 


beth, as she caught sight of a tall pine tree with gilded 
trunk and the shields of knights from many countries 
hanging from its branches. “But where are the 
presents on the branches?” 

“Elisabeth,” exclaimed Edward, in what was 
meant to be a withering tone, “how can you be so 
stupid? Why, that is the golden tree put up there 
because Duke Charles has called this the ‘Tourna¬ 
ment of the Tree of Gold’! Here comes the Princess 
Margaret now!” 

Everything everywhere was brilliant. The arched 
gateway with its many towers was painted with the 
coats of arms of Burgundy and of England and de¬ 
vices showing their power. For many days the 
weavers of tapestries had been busy getting ready 
their most wonderful woven pictures, and bright 
banners waved from every wall. 

The trumpets and the clarions sent forth their 
greeting and from every throat went forth the words 
of welcome, “Long life to the Princess Margaret, 
bride of our Duke Charles! Long life and 
happiness!” 

No sooner had the Lady Margaret taken her seat 
of honor than there was a flourish of trumpets at the 

66 




THE TOURNAMENT OF A DUKE 


gate and the herald announced that “a high and 
puissant lord, desirous of accomplishing the adven¬ 
tures of the Golden Tree, demanded entrance," 1 
and into the lists rode Adolphus of Cleves, Lord of 
Ravenstein, in a suit of tawny velvet trimmed with 
ermine, with slashed sleeves showing flashes of armor 
beneath. 

“Is there among you any gentleman," he cried, 
“who for love of his lady is willing to try with me 
some feat of arms? If there should be any such, 
here I am, quite ready to sally forth, completely 
armed and mounted, to tilt three courses with the 
lance, to give three blows with the battle-ax, and 
three strokes with the dagger." At the other end of 
the lists there straightway approached a pavilion of 
yellow silk embroidered with the Tree of Gold; in 
the center it opened and the Duke’s brother, An¬ 
thony, appeared in full armor on a mighty battle 
steed. Into the center of the lists he rode and awaited 
his opponent, who had thrown off his silken robe and 
approached him, likewise clad in shining armor. 
Their squires tested the lances to see if they were of 
equal length, and then presented them, while a blast 

1 From Kirk’s Charles the Bold. 

67 




PAN THE PIPER 

from a horn gave the two knights the signal for the 
encounter. 

“There they go!” shouted Griffith, in great excite¬ 
ment, leaning so far out of the window that the long 
arm of Hans Memlinc shot out and quickly grasped 
him by the ankle. A shout went up from all the 



JOUST 

From the Westminster Tournament Roll, 
a sixteenth century English manuscript 


Here we have two knights contending across a barrier in a joust,or mimic 
duel. They are clad from the tops of their heads to the tips of their toes in 
shining plate armor, and each is trying to unhorse the other with his long lance. 
The ladies seated in their balcony are eagerly watching their favorite knights. 

people as the knights, spurring on their horses, met 
at “full gallop,” shivering their great spears against 
each other’s armor. So heavily did they meet that 
each knight was seen to tremble, yet each kept his 
saddle. When fresh lances were given them and 
again they jousted with the same result, the applause 
of the onlookers was so great that all the queer little 

68 





















THE CHIEF OF THE ORDER PLACES 
UPON THE NECK OF A KNIGHT THE COLLAR 
OF THE ORDER OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE 
A miniature of the Franco-Flemish School, about 1450-1500 

T 1 HIS little fifteenth century miniature gives us a truthful and vivid pic 
ture of how the people dressed at that time, with their queer, high hats 
and pointed shoes. 

I hope that sometime you will see it in color, for color was the most beau¬ 
tiful part of the little pictures which brightened the pages of the old manu 
scripts. You can well imagine how attractive the scroll-and-vine border 
would be in rich, pure colors and gleaming gold. 



























THE TOURNAMENT OF A DUKE 


gabled houses bordering on the square seemed to 
tremble with the sound. 

“I don't believe King Arthur had any braver 
knights than has Duke Charles!" announced 
Edward, admiringly, as the herald proclaimed the 
general tourney when fifty knights contended for 
victory. “Just wait till I become a knight!" 

“Forget not, lad, that first you must become a 
squire," laughed his father, tweaking his ear, but he 
was too engrossed with what was taking place in the 
square below even to notice it. 

With the points of their lances and swords blunted 
so that nothing might occur to spoil the festivities, 
the fifty knights met, each trying to unhorse his op¬ 
ponent and so win the favor of the lady of his choice; 
while from the wooden balconies erected at the ends 
of the lists bright scarfs and handkerchiefs or the 
especial banners of their favorite knights were 
waved. The horses reared and staggered; the 
knights swayed from their saddles, some of them un¬ 
horsed and needing the services of their squires; and 
many were the broken lances. So eagerly did the 
brave knights fight that not one heard the signal for 
the ending of the encounter! Forthwith, Duke 

69 




PAN THE PIPER 


Charles, who himself had taken part in the general 
tournament, raised his visor and rode swiftly around 
the field, striking down the weapons of the knights 
and bidding them cease from their fighting. 

So the contests continued until “the western sun 
no longer cast its glory on the polished steel, the 
silken banners, and all the radiant scenery of the 
lists.” 

Quickly, then, did the spectators scatter from the 
public square, some to other entertainments in vari¬ 
ous parts of the town, but all the nobles hastened to 
array themselves for the festivities of the banqueting 
hall, a great building which had been erected behind 
the palace. 

“No doubt I shall see some of your handiwork 
to-night,” said Sir John Donne as he took leave of 
the artist, “for I hear Duke Charles has engaged the 
services of all the painters and sculptors and tapestry 
weavers in Burgundy and round about to decorate 
the walls of his new banqueting hall. After the fes¬ 
tivities are over, I want him to see my new altarpiece 
you have just finished, and Lady Donne and myself 
are heartily pleased, for it has far surpassed our 
dearest hopes.” 


70 





THE FEAST OFFERED THE EMPEROR CHARLES IV 
BY THE KING CHARLES V IN THE GREAT HALL 
OF THE PALACE AT PARIS 

From a fifteenth century French manuscript, Grandes Chroniques de France 


r I 'FIESE little pictures, illuminating the old manuscripts, were very ! 
^ important indeed. In early times—though beautiful in rich colors and 
gold—they were all religious pictures. Then, just as the painters and 
sculptors, they broke away from the stiff rules of the Church, and began to 
make everyday scenes of the people around them, serving the people instead 
of printed books. 

























THE TOURNAMENT OF A DUKE 


kk I am more than repaid for my effort," returned 
the artist, “and I trust you will be pleased with our 
decorations to-night. As for you, Master Edward, 
remember our wager!" 

kk I am sure I shall win!" confidently answered the 
boy; “no children are permitted except, of course, 
older ones like myself who am part of it, being a 
page! I shall have to wait upon the lords and 
ladies!" So sure was Edward of the winning of the 
wager, that he did not even notice the queer, smiling 
glance that Hans Memlinc gave Sir John Donne, 
or the funny little chuckle Griffith helped Elisabeth 
smother! 

The banquet hall was ablaze with light; even the 
great ceiling, sixty feet high, was so bright that all 
the richly painted pictures might be seen. The walls 
were hung with tapestries and banners, some of the 
woven pictures telling in color all about the Greek 
hero, Theseus, who went in search of the Golden 
Fleece, just as the Knights of the Order of the 
Golden Fleece rode bravely forth on their adven¬ 
tures, pledged to help their king, defend their church, 
and give help to their fellow knights and all who 
might be in distress. 


71 




PAN THE PIPER 


“Such a blaze of light in so big a place is amaz¬ 
ing!” murmured the Lady Donne, who stood be¬ 
tween her husband and Master Edward, who, in his 
page’s costume, was waiting to join the other boys 
in the service of the many lords and ladies who had 
gathered. 

“Oh, mother, just look at the fiery serpents right 
above our heads!” cried the boy, in real dismay, for 
from the great chandeliers in the form of castles sur¬ 
rounded by forests and mountains there seemed to 
burst forth strange dragons and serpents, sending out 
curling flames which were reflected many times in 
huge mirrors cunningly arranged. 

The table for the family and guests of Duke 
Charles was placed on a raised platform at the upper 
end of the great hall, and above it was a canopy with 
curtains reaching to the floor. All around the hall 
were tiers of galleries for spectators. 

Trumpets sounded and all the little pages ran to 
take their places near the tables they were to serve; 
another flourish of trumpets—more exultant still— 
and Duke Charles, stately in his robe of black velvet 
shining with precious stones, slowly advanced, lead¬ 
ing the Lady Margaret in her shining satin, to their 

72 







BANQUET SCENE REPRESENTING 
THE MONTH OF JANUARY 

From the Book of Hours of the Duke of Berry, a fifteenth 
century French manuscript illuminated by Pol de Limbourg. 

r j ''HE Duke of Berry, who lived in the fifteenth century, spent much of 
^ his time in collecting a wonderful library of beautifully written and 
decorated books. One of them was his Book of Hours, from which this 
picture is taken. Part of the book was a calendar with a little picture 
for every month of the year, each having to do with the everyday life of the 
people of the time. Pol de Limbourg and his brothers, illuminators, were 
regularly employed by the Duke, and made bright this book among his many 
others. <fNo doubt Duke Charles sat at a banquet quite as festive as this / 
































































I 




* 





« 








THE TOURNAMENT OF A DUKE 


chairs on the raised platform three steps above the 
floor and covered with the cloth of gold! Lords and 
ladies followed, all sumptuously attired—the ladies 
resplendent in their elaborate jeweled and veiled 
head-dresses—until the whole great banquet hall was 
bright with the mingling of rich colors and the flash 
of jewels, pearls, diamonds, and rubies. 

Among the little pages, who, in their silken hose, 
long pointed shoes, and short velvet jackets, were 
bringing in the water and towels for hand-wash¬ 
ing before the banquet should begin, was Master 
Edward; and it so happened, as he knelt before 
the Lady Margaret, she bent her head and spoke to 
him, sending him upon an errand, to his great delight. 

“I have most surely won the wager now!” he 
thought gleefully to himself as he sped along, “for 
not only am I in attendance on the Duke’s table, but 
the Lady Margaret has chosen me to be her page! 
It reallv was rather silly of our artist to think that 
mere children like Griffith and Elisabeth could pos¬ 
sibly come! He must have been joking, for I 
haven’t seen a single child here, except, of course, 
the bigger boys like the pages. I am sure to win my 
picture!” 


73 





PAN THE PIPER 


Such a wonderful banquet it was, full of surprises. 
In the center of the Duke’s table—and the long 
tables upon the floor as well—was a tree of gold set 
in gardens formed of mosaic work made with pol¬ 
ished stones, inlaid with silver. Perfumed fountains 
played within the hall. The principal meats were in 
dishes representing gavly painted vessels, with sails 
and banners of silk, and accompanied by a whole 
fleet of boats loaded with lemons, olives, and many 
different fruits. Long-drawn sighs came from the 
pages as they saw the huge pastries, some in the shape 
of castles, with banners waving from their towers, 
others representing forests with lions and tigers. 
Everywhere was beautiful gold and silver plate, and 
one course alone was composed of forty-four dishes, 
placed on chariots bright with gold and azure, and 
moved among the tables by some mechanical device. 

From time to time musicians played, and the deep 
tones of the organ mingled with the sweeter notes of 
the flutes. Every once in a while the curtain of green 
silk at one end of the great hall was drawn aside, and 
upon a stage which was revealed some play was 
performed, to entertain the banqueters. 

“I almost wish Elisabeth and Griffith were here,” 

74 







HAWKING PARTY REPRESENTING THE 
MONTH OF MAY 

From the Book of Hours of the Duke of Berry, a fifteenth 
century French manuscript illuminated by Pol de Limbourg. 


TTERE is another delightful little picture from the calendar of the ‘Duke 
J-J- 0 f Berry. This one representing the month of May is not so rich in 
decoration and so full of splendor as the other, but it is quite as pleasing in 
its spirit of dainty grace, and it shows quite as close a study of nature. 

I am sure the Lady Margaret often went on such a hawking party! 
















THE TOURNAMENT OF A DUKE 


thought Edward, remorsefully; “but it would be 
rather late for them to be up, and I’ll tell them all 
about it to-morrow.” 

Just then came a loud blast from the trumpets, and 
all the ladies and even the biggest pages gasped, and 
the eyes of the latter fairly popped from their heads, 
as they saw advancing a monstrous whale, full sixty 
feet long, escorted by two giants. The whale seemed 
so very real that Edward with a quaking heart won¬ 
dered just how many could go into his huge mouth! 
With its fins and tail the enormous monster went 
through the motions of swimming; great mirrors it 
had for eyes, and at last, at a signal from one of the 
Duke’s followers, it opened its huge mouth and forth 
came youths and maidens in Moorish costume, 
dancing to the gay music of tambourines. 

“Who can that dear little girl and boy be?” Ed¬ 
ward heard the Duchess say, and he could scarcely 
believe his very eyes when he saw Griffith and Elisa¬ 
beth, in the daintiest of costumes—a little Fairy 
prince and princess—step forth from the mouth of 
the giant whale and smile and bow at the lords and 
ladies seated at the Duke’s table. 

Such a chorus of applause followed! Edward, be- 





PAN THE PIPER 


wildered at the miracle which had happened, looked 
first at his parents’ smiling faces and then into the 
twinkling eyes of his new artist friend, Hans Mem- 
linc, who must have brought about the wonderful 
event. 

“Who are the children?” again questioned the de¬ 
lighted Duchess, and before anyone else could an¬ 
swer, Edward bent his knee and said, proudly, “Oh, 
great and noble Duchess, they are my brother and 
sister, Griffith and Elisabeth!” 

As Edward left the banqueting hall with the other 
pages, he slipped his ring into the hand of the artist 
as he passed him. “You shall have your picture, 
too,” whispered Hans Memlinc, for you have show n 
you will become a gallant and generous knight!” 



76 





WHEN THE TONGUES 
OF THE BELLS WERE 
LOOSENED 
























When the Tongues 

of the Bells Were Loosened 


INTRODUCTION 


TP ROM th e very beginning of things, Bells have 
JL had voices and have spoken from the time of 
the striking together of two pieces of stone to the 
time when iron bells really had tongues of their own. 
So—why shouldn't they have a Festival—or at least 
a Tercentenary—of their own f Haven't they done 
as much for the world as the Pilgrims who had a big 
celebration only recentlyf Aren't they heard all 
over the world f 


One night when the sky was quite dark, and the 
wind blew, and sometimes the clouds seemed to part 
into yawning chasms of fire, the Bells all began to 
speak, quite drowning out the thunder, although 
they could still feel the earth shake. 

“Father Time! Father Time!'' they cried. And 


19 



INTRODUCTION 


such a ringing and a pealing there was—each bell 
following the clear voice of its neighbor, from the 
faint tones of the smaller ones to the confident, tri¬ 
umphant voices of the larger—that Old Father Time 
appeared, as he always can anywhere, seemingly 
coming from nowhere! 

“Well, wellU he grumbled, “Such talking and 
ringing and sputtering I never heard before—not 
since the time when bells summoned men to war or 
welcomed the returning hero! You big fellow over 
there with the deep voice, tell me what you want, for 
remember the Seconds are turning quickly into 
Minutes, the Minutes into Hours—and so on until 
Centuries flit by, and it is going on forever—for I, 
lam Time itself, and 1 cannot stop and no one can 
stop me! Speak!” 

“We want a Celebration!” came the deep, resound¬ 
ing voice of the Big Bell, while from afar off pealed 
forth fainter but more beautiful ones. “On to¬ 
morrow night, good Father Time, let us all, for two 
hours, have the power each to hear the others all over 
the world! Let us have a chance to tell stories of 
what we have seen. The living creatures we see 
below us—often with voices far less sweet and them- 

80 









INTRODUCTION 


selves of far less service to the world—can write 
about what they have seen, or tell stories of their 
lives. Let us! For we have lived and worked and 
served, O Father Time! JVe have rung out sum¬ 
mons for soldiers, called alarms in case of fire or 
riot, urged people to attend churches above which we 
live, helped to crown kings, and rejoiced at the peace 
following wars, and have always sung our praises at 
Christmas time. Grant us, therefore, our request!” 

“Aye, do, O Father Time!” rang all the Bells in 
their many tones. 

All was still while Father Time thought for just 
the fraction of a minute. “It is granted, then,” he 
cried. “I must be on my way. But remember for 
just two hours on to-morrow night, beginning when 
you shall all feel your tongues loosened. I would 
listen to your stories, but 1 must be on my way, for 
without me would not all things ceasef” 


81 






When the Tongues 
of the Bells Were Loosened 

T seemed to the Bells, big and small, 
round and fat, long and thin, as if the 
next night would never come! It was a 
relief whenever anyone struck them or 
pulled their tongues or called them into 
life by the wonderful machinery which 
they never had been able to understand. 
All of them were so high up in the air, 
in church and cathedral towers, that 
they could see the sun and its glow when it went 
to rest. All of them had worried a little over old 
Father Time’s statement, because, of course, time 
would be different all over the world, so they 
couldn’t be guided by the sky, and how were 
they to know when it was time to speak? But 
they comforted themselves with the thought that 

82 






TONGUES OF BELLS WERE LOOSENED 


Father Time had said the hour would come 
when all their tongues would be loosened, and 
that they would all be able to speak and hear 
and understand. 

The hours dragged by. “I should think Time 
might hurry the hours along,” grumbled the Bells to 
themselves. “He can speak any time he wishes.” 
Every once in a while they tried to move their 
tongues so that they would be sure not to miss the 
eventful hour of their great celebration. They had 
tried many times to no avail, for their tongues hung 
just as heavy and motionless as ever; but the next 
moment a shiver of delight went through them all 
and throughout the whole world went a great sound! 
Heavy, deep voices; mellow, rich ones; and notes 
so high and sweet and clear that they might easily 
have been taken for bird music. “How good it is to 
be able to talk, all of us together!” they cried, and 
talked and talked, until they realized that they could 
not understand one single word, since they were all 
talking at once, and that several minutes of their rare 
celebration time had passed. Then out boomed one 
Bell more loudly than the others, almost cracking 
his sides with the effort. 


83 




PAN THE PIPER 


“Hearken, ye many Bells!” he pealed. “We must 
speak in turn while the others listen, and since I have 
been able to make myself heard above all your voices, 
I will begin while the rest of you give ear. I weigh 
eight thousand pounds and it takes twenty-four men 
to make me speak, except, of course, to-night, which 
accounts for the power of my voice, and I was dedi¬ 
cated to the martyred Archbishop Thomas a Becket, 
from whose cathedral at Canterbury, England, I am 
speaking. No doubt you’ve heard people tell of 
him—how he was the son of a silk merchant and, 
after his father lost his money, became a priest. I 
wasn’t even thought of then, let alone formed, but 
since then I’ve heard the story of Thomas a Becket 
of England told by many a pilgrim coming to 
worship at his shrine. 

One of the Archbishops of Canterbury held 
Thomas a Becket as a friend, and when Henry, the 
son of Matilda and Count of Normandy, became 
King of England, he showed favor to Thomas, who 
had helped the Archbishop place him on the throne. 
So Thomas, the silk merchant’s son, the priest, was 
made Chancellor of England, and on many a hunt¬ 
ing party rode he with his King. He was a knight, 

84 





TONGUES OF BELLS WERE LOOSENED 


too, and once led our English army against the 
French. 

“The next step was to make him Archbishop, for 
King Henry thought that thus he himself could rule 
the Church, but Thomas a Becket thought otherwise, 
and became just as good an archbishop as he had 
been priest and soldier and scholar. You know how 
it is, Bells, trouble comes between friends, and one 
or both hastily say words which they afterward would 
very much like to recall. The quarrels and troubles 
grew, for Thomas was quite determined to stand for 
the rights of the Church and the King was quite de¬ 
termined to rule it. One day King Henry exclaimed 
impatiently, ‘Will no man rid me of this turbulent 
priest?’ He really did not mean the words, just as 
often unmeaningly I strike a shrill and discordant 
note, but the four knights who heard him speak 
decided that it gave them permission to take the life 
of the Archbishop. 

“So one night, Bells, right here in the very church 
in whose tower I now reside, they took his life. It 
was just four days after Christmas. Only a few 
torches were lighted; the Christmas hymns were still 
in the air. The four knights had been ushered into 

85 




PAN THE PIPER 


the presence of the Archbishop in his palace, and 
had demanded that he leave England; but he refused. 
The wicked knights then followed him into my 
church and there they slew him. I am glad I was 
not alive at the time, so awful it was. Everyone 
honored him, and he is called Saint Thomas a Becket, 
and inside of my church is his beautiful and far- 
famed shrine, to which thousands come from all over 
the world—so many that they have worn the steps 
leading to it. 

“All sorts of people come and from my place in 
the tower I can see them. I shall never forget one 
morning in April, centuries ago—for, as you know, 
centuries flit by like hours or even minutes for us 
who live on through the ages—when a long proces¬ 
sion made its way to my cathedral. The air was 
sweet with the springtime flowers unfolding; there 
was just enough of a breeze from the westward, and 
the birds flitted around my towers singing of the 
spring which had come. It was a procession full of 
color and of sound, for if I listened with all my will 
I could hear the tinkling of little bells, and the sound 
of music as well as of laughter and talking. As they 
came nearer I could make out the words. 

86 






TONGUES OF BELLS WERE LOOSENED 


Such queer and interesting folk they were, and 
years afterward I heard a pilgrim say that a man 
named Chaucer, a great writer of our land, who was 
with them on that day, wrote about them. There 
was a knight in armor, and the sun shining upon 
it quite dazzled me as I looked down. Close beside 
him rode his squire who many a time had helped 
the knight into that gleaming suit and who had 
fought often by his side in battle, hoping some day 
to win the spurs of knighthood for himself. There 
was a yeoman all clad in Lincoln green, so that he 
might have been taken for one of Robin Hood’s 
followers, and he carried a curved hunting horn of 
ivory, all beautifully carved, upon which he blew 
from time to time. The jolly fat-cheeked monks— 
two of them—with their shaved heads and hearty 
laughter, shaking so with merriment that they nearly 
fell from their plodding horses, were right cheery 
companions, and they seemed to be busy talking— 
telling rare stories, no doubt—to a lady pilgrim 
who wore a broad hat, well veiled. A long proces¬ 
sion it was, my friends, for besides those named there 
was a merchant, very grand and stately and pom¬ 
pous and straight upon his horse; two nuns, modest 

87 






PAN THE PIPER 


and quiet; a lawyer; a goldsmith; a tapestry mer¬ 
chant, besides many others. And the colors! Greens 
and browns and reds, with the glint of silver and 
gold. From my height it looked like a moving pat¬ 
tern of blending colors. After I had looked them 
all over, I listened to the song they were singing as 
it was wafted up to me; and, behold! it was about 
us, friends, the Bells! 

“ The Bells of England, how they peal 
From tower and Gothic pile, 

Where hymn and swelling anthem fill 
The dim Cathedral aisle. 1 

“There was more to it that I could not catch, so far 
below me they were, and there were stories told by 
different pilgrims—wonderful stories that held you 
breathless with interest. So I watched and listened 
until the long, colorful procession went into the inn 
quite near to my cathedral, where there was such a 
bustling and shouting as I have never known before. 
The stable boys ran to care for the weary horses; 
the landlord of the inn went out to greet the travelers, 
bowing and smiling and full of welcome, thinking, 

1 Archdeacon Cleveland Coxe. 


88 





TONGUES OF BELLS WERE LOOSENED 


no doubt, of how much fatter his pocketbook would 
be; and soon there came to me, for there was a stiff 
wind blowing, the pleasing fragrance of the well- 
cooked dinner, and although I could see them no 
more, I could imagine them seated at the long boards 
placed upon trestles and eating delicious dainties 
from their wooden trenchers. 

“On the next day they entered my church to prav 
before the shrine of our martyred Saint Thomas and 
to leaye their offerings of gold and silver and jewels. 
They prayed, also, before the shrine of our brave 
Edward the Fourth, the Black Prince, about whom 
you all have heard, who so bravely fought King 
Philip of France at the great battle of Crecy. He 
was but a boy then, but the King, his father, watched 
the battle from a hill near bv and left the Bov Prince, 
in a full suit of black armor, to direct the soldiers 
alone. ‘Fet the child win his spurs, and let the day 
be his!’ he cried. He did win, and all the English 
folk loved their little Black Prince, who was not only 
brave, but kind and courteous, as every true knight 
should be. When the French king fell into his hands 
he treated him with all reverence and gentleness, 
saying-” 


89 





PAN THE PIPER 


“Time is passing, and you have had more than 
your share, Canterbury Bell,” came the voice of 
Father Time, seemingly from out of nowhere, 
showing that he was listening in spite of himself. 

“Our turn next!” pealed forth the sweetest and 
clearest of voices, in music so sweet that even the 
stars had to listen. “We are the Bells of Flanders, 
and we can wait no longer to ring out in joy that 
the great World War is over. We sing of heroic 
deeds and of honor, of sacrifice and of love. We 
sing of joy and of sorrow, but most of all of peace. 
This is our story.” It seemed to the other Bells as if 
all the music in the world was mingled in the many 
voices—the lutelike music of the carillons accom¬ 
panied by the graver voices of the bigger bells. 

Many a precious moment of their all too short 
celebration time passed in silence, and even Time 
stopped, for every one of the Bells all over the world 
had seen and mourned at what the Bells of Flanders 
had looked down upon, and they, too, rejoiced that 
such sights were over. The story of the Bells of 
Flanders was a short one, but it was full of dignity 

and of beauty. 

✓ 

“We suffered, too!” mourned the deep Bell of 

90 





CATHEDRAL OF NOTRE DAME, PARIS 

J\^0 wonder everyone listened when the bell of this cathedral spoke, for 
no doubt the voice was as full of power and dignity as the beautiful 
cathedral itself You are looking at the side of Notre Dame; there, as well 
as in the beautiful western front, is the splendid proportion of vertical 
lines giving lightness and grace, and horizontal lines giving a feeling of 
strength. Over the crossing of the nave and the two arms, the spire 
stretches up high into the air, and the two towers of the western front and 
all the little pinnacles lead our eyes upward. There is beautiful carved 
work in the rose windows which you can see among the trees, but there isn’t 
too much decoration; it is all simple and stately and fits right into the struc¬ 
tural lines. JVe must not forget the big flying arches which throw the 
weight of the cathedral upon the many stout buttresses or supports. 

In the Middle Ages these cathedrals with their carved statues of saints and 
church fathers and their painted pictures served the people instead of books. 














TONGUES OF BELLS WERE LOOSENED 


Notre Dame. “Paris was gay no longer; and well 
I remember, too, the time when my beautiful church 
was so roughly handled during our Revolution. 
But let me now recall to you a great man, a mighty 
general, who was crowned Emperor within my 
church.” 

“It was Napoleon!" called out the Bells. 

“The Pope had even come to Paris to crown him, 
an unheard-of event. It was December, a clear 
winter day, and the streets were crowded with people 
—old and young and rich and poor—all anxious to 
see the man who should be elected their Emperor. 
And these were the same people who a few years 
before had cried, ‘Down with tyranny,’ and had at 
the cost of the terrible Revolution formed a Repub¬ 
lic. I could see Napoleon as he entered Notre Dame, 
and small indeed he looked to be such a mighty ruler 
and the leader of a nation. A glorious robe of 
purple velvet he wore, and upon his head—like 
Julius Caesar of Rome—a wreath of golden leaves. 
‘Long live Napoleon! Long live the Emperor!' the 
people were shouting, even drowning out my voice, 
as he entered the great central portal of my church, 
which was bright with decorations. 

9i 








PAN THE PIPER 


“A few years later there was again great shouting 
and rejoicing in the streets of Paris, and all of our 
bells rang out, hats were removed, banners waved, 
flags floated, until there were below me all movement 
and color and sound. Napoleon’s son, whom he 
called the King of Rome—for the Emperor ruled 
over an even greater empire than Charlemagne of 
old, and was honored even as the Roman emperors 
had been—was born. No one ever thought, alas! 
that the mighty Emperor would be exiled from the 
land which he ruled. Such a celebration as we had 
when the royal baby was christened, right here in my 
church. Every bell rejoiced, and I had a pain, 
almost a crack in my side, for some time, because of 
my enthusiasm! The Tuileries gardens were crowded 
with shining carriages filled with gayly clad people, 
and a grand procession was formed; soldiers in all 
their splendor, pompous officers of high rank, the 
Imperial carriage drawn by eight magnificent 
horses, everyone trying to catch a glimpse of the 
little boy within. I got just a fleeting one, but I saw 
a long robe of white satin all covered with lace, and 
just a bit of his wee face peering out from the little 
lace cap. Of course I could not see the christening, 

92 





TONGUES OF BELLS WERE LOOSENED 


but I heard the heralds cry, ‘Long live Napoleon 
Francis Charles Joseph, King of Rome!’ and all the 
vast throng within the church, ‘Long live the King 
of Rome!’ So mighty was the cheering that I didn’t 
even try to speak. 

“Before my time is spent, just look down at my 
great church, a sermon in stone. From all over the 
world people come. They like to see my deep door¬ 
ways with the carved figures of saints and angels 
guarding them, my beautiful flower-shaped window 
above, the two towers going high up toward the 
clouds, in one of which you can see me, and the 
arcade of arches joining them. Then just look at my 
giant flying buttresses, like the arms of a great giant 
who is supporting the heavy walls and is leaning for 
his support upon the thickened outer walls—other 
buttresses. And the windows! In the starlight you 
can see them gleam, and in the daylight the colored 
glass flames when the sun touches them. Many of 
them there are, all over my walls, with pointed arches 
and the glass set into beautiful carved work of-” 

“Time for the next Bell to speak!” chanted the 
voice of Time. “Let the Bells of Italy have a chance 
to rejoice.” 


93 






PAN THE PIPER 


“We have heard artists who came to sketch us say 
that we are beautiful in shape as well as in tone/’ 
chimed seven Bells in chorus. “For many years we 
have looked out from our great bell tower, slender 
but strong, far out over our beautiful city of Flor¬ 
ence. We have watched all the changing colors of 
the sky, the crimson and deep gold and soft purple- 
blue of the glorious sunsets, and always full of joy 
we have looked down upon our tower, so delicately 
carved out of such wonderfully colored marbles— 
white and gray-green, soft rose pink and a mellow 
gold over all—that they delight the eyes of all be¬ 
holders. ‘Design us a bell tower for the Cathedral 
of the Flowers!’ commanded the rulers of Florence, 
and Giotto, the little shepherd boy of the hills who 
had become a great artist in our city, planned it, and 
other great builders and sculptors carried out his 
plans. That is all, for my beautiful carved pictures 
tell the rest. 

“Ring out in honor of Giotto, who first in our 
land ceased from blindly following rules laid down 
by the Church and made his pictures look real, and 
his people like the everyday ones he saw all around 
him. If it were not for him who led the way, who 

94 





CATHEDRAL OF MILAN 


TN the Cathedral of fNotre “Dame, Paris, at which you just looked, 
-*■ there was a place to rest your eyes so that you could enjoy the beauty of 
line and space and pattern. Some one has spoken of the “forests of little 
steeples” in the Milan Cathedral and I think it is a very good description 
indeed. Don’t you? <fNo matter how beautiful the white marble, or how 
high the central spire, or how beautifully carved the little pinnacles and ar¬ 
cades and statues, there is so much decoration that it takes away from that 
restfulness and beauty which we feel in fNoire ‘Dame. 





















TOXGUES OF BELLS WERE LOOSENED 


knows whether we should have pictures so real and 
beautiful that they are a joy to all!” 

“Time passes! You have had all but a few Min¬ 
utes, each made up of sixty precious Seconds, of 
your festival hours. Speak on, O Bells, but briefly, 
for I must be on my way!” 

“There is great beauty, too, in the Cathedral of 
Milan, where I live," chimed a sweet-toned Bell. 
“And I am not so very far awav from vou, O Bell 
of Giotto’s Campanile. I ring out no stories of em¬ 
perors crowned, or pilgrims coming to worship 
before a far-famed shrine, save those who worship 
before the whiteness of the marble of my church. 
How it gleams against the blue of the sky, and with 
its beautiful carvings, its little pinnacles and mina¬ 
rets, all of white marble, its central spire seeming to 
climb even above the clouds, looks, as 1 heard some 
one say, like an ‘immense piece of silver lace’ against 
a ‘background of lapis-lazuli.’ ” 

“I have no pointed arches and climbing spire,” 
sang the next Bell, “but I have great gleaming white 
domes, and all around my doorways are pillars set 
with jasper and other precious stones. Great people 
have written about my home, too, the Cathedral of 

95 




PAN THE PIPER 


the City by the Sea, and I like what this one said the 
very best of all: the ‘crests of the arches break into 

j 

a marble foam, and toss themselves far into the blue 
sky in flashes and wreaths of sculptured spray.’ I 
know that my church is very different from Notre 
Dame and Milan and other Gothic churches with 
the spires and rose windows and great flying 
arches. Mine is built like the Eastern church of 
the Emperor Justinian, with the many domes 
clustering around the central one and helping to 
support it. 

“My city is by the sea and the pride of my people 
and of their rulers, the Doges, has ever been in the 
deep-blue Adriatic and the high curved ships. The 
grandest sight I ever beheld was when, one Sunday 
over seven hundred years ago, my church of Saint 
Mark’s gleamed in the sunlight as it never had be¬ 
fore. Every inch of its rich marbles, its pure ala¬ 
baster, brought away from the East, its many pre¬ 
cious stones in its columns, its wonderful mosaic 
designs formed of colored bits of stone and glass 
cunningly made into patterns, shone as they never 
had before. Gay banners of red and white and green 
waved, we Bells gave forth melody after melody, as 

96 





CATHEDRAL OF ST. MARK’S, VENICE 


TI/E are now standing in the Piazza or Square of St. (^Mark’s, looking 
' at quite a different cathedral. There is the high bell tower near by, 
and no wonder the bell had a powerful voice and a very good view, for 
although this isn’t the same bell tower which stood at the time of the story, it 
is like it. 

In this cathedral we see great domes copied from the wonderful churches 
of the East, and over the many doorways marvelously wrought pictures made 
of little pieces of marble cunningly put together upon a ground of gold. 
























TONGUES OF BELLS WERE LOOSENED 


thousands of people poured inside the church to 
hear what their beloved blind old Doge, Enrico 
Dandolo, wearing his gold-decorated robe, and 
high and richly jeweled cap upon his white hair, 
might say. 

“ ‘Give ear, O ye people of Venice, unto these 
messengers of the new Crusade,’ he cried. ‘I have 
given my promise to them that we, the people of 
Venice, the “Bride of the Sea,” would build ships 
for the carrying of thousands of horses and 
knights to rescue the Holy City of Jerusalem, for 
the “service of God and of the whole world.” ’ 
‘We consent, we consent!' cried all the people, 
as our white-haired Doge took the Cross of the 
Crusaders. 

“I well remember, too, the day when the Crusaders 
sailed from our harbor. The sun shone, the trum¬ 
pets sounded, the colored banners waved, and the 
golden Lion of Saint Mark gleamed on its blue 
ground. ‘In the name of the Creator!’ cried the 
people, as the high-beaked galleys with their many 
oars put off from the shore. From all over Italy 
and France artists have come to see the wonder¬ 
ful treasures—paintings, sculpture, silks, jewels— 

97 





PAN THE PIPER 


which the Crusaders brought back from the East, 
and-” 

“I must interrupt!” pealed a Bell which seemed to 
be very far away. “Our time is up within a few hun¬ 
dred priceless Seconds. Already my tongue grows 
heavy, but the Festival of the Bells shall not cease 
until at least one has spoken from America. I can 
see and hear you all—though dimly and faintly—so 
listen well. I am not so old as some of you, who are 
my ancestors, but my church, too, has seen war and 
peace, joy and sorrow, disaster and prosperity. Best 
of all do our chimes—the chimes of Old Trinity— 
like to ring out our song in the sacred Christmas 
Festival, a song of Joy and Hope and Peace to all 
the many boys and girls and men and women of our 
crowded city— 

“ And wild and sweet 
The words repeat 

Of peace on earth, good will to men! 1 

“Of peace on earth, good will to men!” echoed all 
the other Bells in so full and rich a melody that the 
sound filled the whole world and went ringing into 

1 Longfellow. 


98 





TONGUES OF BELLS WERE LOOSENED 


people’s dreams and soaring to the clouds and the 
stars. 

“May it be forever!” cried Old Father Time in a 
voice which none had heard before. “And may Bells 
ever ring out their stories and songs in all the fullness 
of their melodies!” 


99 






































A Magic Carpet of 
Old Persia 


INTRODUCTION 

/ STAYED for a while one summer in a little place 
in Mai ne where the woods and the sea combined; 
and there was one especial little spot surrounded by 
great spruce and pine trees and covered with dark- 
green, brown-green, and gray-green moss and sprin¬ 
kled with pine needles and cones which I liked the 
best of all. Just enough sun peered down among 
the branches to keep it bright and make beautiful the 
shadowed patterns of the swaying boughs, and just 
enough sky peered through to look like blue-green 
mountain lakes cloud-capped like foam. Just enough 
wind there was to make the music of the trees and 
bring the salt sea air. I am sure that in such a spot, 
at night, when the moon glow takes the place of the 
sunlight, the Fairies come and dance upon the velvet 

103 


INTRODUCTION 


softness of the feathery moss, and giant Genii, whose 
eyes have beheld most marvelous sights, swing upon 
the wind-tossed branches of the evergreen spruce. 
Then, when they’ve had enough of play, one of the 
Fairies first, or one chosen from the Genii, tells 
wondrous tales of far-distant lands. 

We are far away from such a spot, but there are 
Persian rugs with trees and flowers which we can 
see; so if once more we use our Magic Gift, Imagi¬ 
nation, every bit as powerful as a Magic Wishing 
Ring—a gift which has belonged to boys and girls, 
and grown-ups, too, ever since all things began—we 
can make live these Persian rugs with their beautiful 
color patterns and the happy rhythm of their lines. 
Then, it is safe to say that from among the trees or 
gardens or the forests in the rugs some one will step 
forth to tell some glorious tale of olden times all 
filled with color, and with brave deeds, and with 
flashing gems. 

This time it will be a tale of a great hero who did 
many wonderful deeds like the Greek Hercules; this 
story is told in a Persian book called the Epic of the 
Kings, or the Shah Nameh, stories about the many 
adventures, battles, and victories of Persian kings and 

104 





INTRODUCTION 


heroes. This great hero is named Rustem, who was 
ever of service to his king. The Persian poet who 
told the stories of this hero was Firdausi and he lived 
about nine hundred years ago. His history in verse 
told all about the Persian kings of ancient times 
down to the seventh century, when the Saracens 
invaded the land. 

After this story of adventure we shall be taken to 
a wonder-palace with flower-filled gardens and rich 
hangings, where Fairies dwell. 

So, now, we will listen to this story of a Persian 
Rug and then, whenever we look at them with their 
beautiful colors and patterns, we will just say, “Let’s 
make believe!” and behold, the trees and the flowers 
and the animals will live and all sorts of strange 
creatures will appear to take us on wonderful 
adventures. 


105 




A Magic Carpet of 
Old Persia 



|T was such a beautiful Persian rug 
K of dark-red ground, on which were 
trees in bloom, among them tall 
and stately cypresses. The trees 
and flowers looked real and beauti¬ 
ful and yet they were so woven that 
the colors and the lines formed 
happy patterns. Full many a day 
and night it had hung there on the 
wall admired by many, but always just a rug. 
And then one night, when all was quiet, it so 
happened that a shaft of moonlight shone directly 
through a window, and so brightly that it made the 
whole big rug aglow. It shone on just that one and 
no other, as if calling it to life. Brighter and more 
compelling grew the moonlight and more like a real 
garden looked the rug, until whosoever listened very 
closely could hear the whispering of the trees, and 


ioo 


A MAGIC CARPET OF OLD PERSIA 


whosoever looked verv closelv could see the stately 

J J J 

cypresses sway gently in the flower-scented breeze. 
Then slowly and with languid movements, as if sleep 
had claimed him many years, there rose from behind 
a blossom-laden tree a man tall in stature. Dark 
skinned was he and on his head was a turban of 
various shades of red and blue and green, while his 
wide trousers glowed with the deepest orange, and 
about his shoulders and his waist were wound the 
softest silks of many colors, and around his neck a 
necklace which sparkled bright red and golden yel¬ 
low when the moonbeams shone upon it. Then he 
passed his hand across his brow as if just awaking, 
and said, slowly, “I am the Spirit of this Persian rug 
woven four hundred years ago, and long have I been 
waiting till the new moon’s rays should fall upon this 
rug of trees alone, for only then may I awake. But 
with me lies the power to call to life this other rug 
woven near the time of mine. Awake, thou rug of 
animals!” Forthwith, at the waving of his hand, the 
rug of animals awoke, and lions roared from out of 
the forest as they shook their tawny manes; tigers 
and jackals quickened into life and attacked the 
yellow-spotted Chinese deer, and back and forth they 




PAN THE PIPER 


rolled upon the forest green, tails quivering in the 
air at the fierceness of the playful quarrel. Wild 
boars bounded among the trembling trees, and 
this way and that ran the forest animals, while all 
around the border of the rug bloomed many-colored 
flowers. 

“Awake, birds and animals of our Eastern land; 
awake, dainty-footed Fairies, gifted with the magic 
wands, and revealers of thy countless strange adven¬ 
tures; awake, thou giant Genie of the performers of 
great deeds, awake and people these glorious rugs 
and listen to a Persian tale of long ago, told by the 
Singer of Paradise, Firdausi. And now as I tell the 
tale, give heed, Fairy Folk, resting among the flow¬ 
ers on the rugs, or swinging on the branches of the 
graceful, swaying trees, and call forth for the boys 
and girls who live to-day that magic gift of theirs— 
that wondrous fairy gift—that they, too, may hear 
the tales we have to tell. And, thou Prince of all the 
powerful Genii, thou Genie clad in flowing white 
and tall as yonder stately cypress, stay thou there in 
the forest with the beasts, for they too must listen, 
cease from their sporting play and a silence keep, for 
only while the moonbeams shine upon these rugs 

108 




A MAGIC CARPET OF OLD PERSIA 


may we live and speak. Hear, then, this tale from 
our Persian poet, Firdausi. 

“Know then, that Rustem, son and grandson of 
mighty warriors, was one day hunting near Tiiran, 
which bordered close on China, when sleep over¬ 
came him after his labors and he left free to graze 
his far-famed horse, Rakush, meaning Lightning, 
which he had conquered as an untamed colt. Then 
while the hero slept there came a band of Tartars, 
who after a long struggle captured the fiercely 
fighting Rakush and bore him far away. 

“ ‘Where is the companion of my many wander¬ 
ings?' called Rustem, waking, and his calling made 
the hills resound, but no answering neigh was heard. 
In search then he went, and when the shadows spread 
he reached a kingdom bordering on Tiiran and was 
welcomed by the King. 

“ ‘The footsteps of my far-famed Rakush have I 
followed!' cried the hero, ‘for while I closed my eves 
in slumber after the labors of the hunt, my struggling 
horse was stolen and I have traced him to thy door. 
Bring forth my Rakush!’ 

“Then pleaded the King that no knowledge of the 
theft was his and appeased him with friendly words, 

109 




PAN THE PIPER 


bidding him become his guest while a search was 
made for the missing horse. 

“A banquet in honor of the well-known hero, Rus¬ 
tem, was prepared with rich dishes, rare music, and 
dancing. Then, wearied with his day of hunting and 
worn with the search for his comrade, Rakush, he 
went early to his couch sweet with rose and musk, 
and there forgot his misfortune for a while. He was 
wakened by the glow from an amber taper and saw 
before him a maiden of marvelous beauty, and 
graceful as a slender cypress tree. 

“ ‘Who art thou, radiant maiden?’ asked the won¬ 
dering hero. ‘What name bearest thou who rivals 
the very stars in brightness?’ 

“ ‘Tahmineh is my name,’ she answered, ‘and I 
am the daughter of thy host, the King. Many times 
have I listened with delight to the oft-sung praises 
of thy great deeds. Thy gleaming sword hath con¬ 
quered many a foe; even the Demons shrink from 
its flash. And so I prayed for thy success and thy 
safekeeping and from so doing thou didst become 
dear to me. But grant the longing of my heart— 
ask me in marriage of the King—and Rakush to thee 
shall be restored, for I know where he is hidden.’ 


no 






RUSTEM CATCHING HIS HORSE, RAKUSH 

From a Persian manuscript, a.d. 1537 
Collection of Baron de Rothschild 


TT/'ITH the fittest of brushes made from the hair of a squirrel's tail, the 
' ' Persian artists drew their pictures, and their eyes and hands were 
very sure as they skilfully made the delicate lines and curves. These little 
pictures are full of decoration and charm, with rich colors—soft pink or 
purple or dove color—against a golden sky. 































A MAGIC CARPET OF OLD PERSIA 


“Rustem felt an answering love, and the happy 
Tahmineh soon became his bride. All too quickly 
came the time when Rustem must depart, and sorrow 
dimmed Tahmineh’s eyes, and no comfort did she 
know till there came her boy, whom she named 
Sohrab, or the Child of Smiles. Strong he grew and 
skillful as a hunter and a wrestler, but Tahmineh, 
fearing lest Rustem, should he know of so strong 
and brave a son, would take him from her in his 
pride, the message sent to Rustem of a daughter born. 

“But not many were the years before Sohrab, 
Child of Smiles, stood questioning before his tender 
mother. ‘Since childhood have I surpassed my play¬ 
mates in my strength, yet know I not my father’s 
name. Tell me, I pray thee, that I may answer when 
they ask.’ 

“Then answered Tahmineh: 

“ ‘A glorious line precedes thy destined birth, 

The mightiest heroes of the sons of earth. 

And Rustem thy illustrious sire! 

“ ‘Take thou this wondrous onyx bracelet charm 
left by thy father to keep thee from harm; but make 
not thyself known, else thy father, in his pride of 


hi 




PAN THE PIPER 


thee, will take thee from me, the comfort of my 
heart.’ 

“But Sohrab, strong of arm and broad of shoulder, 
made reply, ‘My father’s and my country’s foes shall 
feel the vengeance of my sword; the Tartar King, 
Afrasiyab, and even Kai Kaus of Persia himself, 
shall yield to Rustem, who shall wear the crown, and 
thou, O honored mother, shall be queen of our fair 
Persia. I must seek my noble father and look upon 
his face. 

“ ‘Farewell, oh, my mother!’ Sohrab cried, as forth 
he rode upon a steed ‘from Rakush bred, of light¬ 
ning’s winged speed,’ and soon his fame spread from 
sea to sea and many followers hastened to his call. 

“When Afrasiyab, King of the Tartars, saw 
Sohrab march against the Persian host, he sent forth 
his warriors to aid, but thus he charged his chiefs: 
‘If this is the son of Rustem, he must not know his 
father, but let each, unknowing, claim the other as his 
foe. Let Sohrab overcome his father, ere long the 
Persian rule is ours.’ 

“The advancing hosts, with Sohrab in the lead, 
reached soon a fort from which, on seeing them, 
there advanced Gurd-afrid, a warrior maid, clad in 

1 12 




A MAGIC CARPET OF OLD PERSIA 


her burnished mail, her curling locks placed be¬ 
neath a helmet. Swiftly, dike a lion,’ from the fort 
she charged straight toward the foe and challenged 
the bravest knight, and Sohrab rode against her, 
thinking her a gallant youth, but little dreaming of 
her skill in arms. Never did her singing arrows miss 
their mark till he was compelled to hold high his 
buckler. With all his strength, at last Sohrab flung 
his gleaming javelin; straight through her girdle belt 
the weapon flew and Gurd-afrid all but tumbled from 
her horse. Courageous still, she drew the severed 
spear with her sword, and forward spurred her steed. 
But swift as eagle’s flight he followed her, ensnared 
her in his noose, and doing so, struck off her helmet 
and beheld a woman’s face encircled with radiant 
hair! He would have held her prisoner had not the 
maid with cunning thus replied, knowing full well 
that he could not boast the conquering of a woman: 

“ ‘O warrior brave, 

Hear me, and thy emperiled honor save, 

• •••••••• 

Better preserve a warrior's fair renown, 

And let our struggle still remain unknown. 


The fort, the treasure, shall thy toils repay.’ 

113 





PAN THE PIPER 


“Sohrab, enraptured with her charms, and chival¬ 
rous, set free the maid, all trusting in her word. But 
when they reached the battlements, only to the war¬ 
rior maid, Giird-afrid, were the gates opened, then 
closed on him. 

“Full angry at being thus ensnared, Sohrab rode 
back to camp, but when upon the following day 
he and his host advanced to storm the fortress 
of the warrior maid, gone were those who had 
dwelt therein and open wide the gates. For the 
warrior maid and the keepers of the fort had by 
secret ways gone swift to the Persian King 
to warn him of Sohrab joined with the Tartar 
King. 

“ ‘Send for brave Rustem, who “preserves the glory 
of the Persian throne,” the champion of our land,’ 
he cried, and swiftly went a messenger to implore 
Rustem to hasten to their aid. When that hero 
learned that the young Sohrab was strong like to 
himself, he marveled much. 

“‘He cannot be my son!’ he cried. ‘I have a 
daughter. But would this were my son!’ 

“After days of rest and feasting, Rustem returned 
with his warriors and the anxious messenger to the 

114 





RUSTEM’S HORSE FIGHTIXG WITH A UOX 

From a Persian manuscript, A.D. 1537 
Collection of Baron de Rothschild 


A TO wonder Rustem was fond of a horse which saved him from a lion 
' that would have slain him as he slept! Here, too, you see a flat 
design—though full of decoration—with Rustem seeming to float in the air 


rather than lying upon the ground. In the upper part of the picture the 
mari'elous ‘Persian handwriting, with its delicate lines and curves also 


formed by a brush, shows you that the writers were artists as well as those 


who painted the charming little pictures. 


























































A MAGIC CARPET OF OLD PERSIA 


King of Persia, who was sore enraged at his delay, 
and met the hero with foolish, angry words. Rustem, 
angered at his ingratitude, for he had saved his king¬ 
dom many a time, cried out reproachfully, ‘Ungrate¬ 
ful King! Full many a time thy crown and life Fve 
saved! For thee Fve fought and loyal to thee have 
I been! This land Fll leave and save it from its foes 
no more!’ 

“Away then rode Rustem, and but for the pleading 
of the warriors bold the King had lost his champion. 
But they prevailed on him to send a humble message, 
and they overtook the hero on his swift horse, 
Rakush, and after soothing words Rustem was in¬ 
duced to return to the Persian King, who met him in 
repentance. 

“At once did Rustem command the army and 
lead them forward, steel-incased and shining in the 
sun, to where their foes were camped. Sohrab, 
smiling, saw the vast host advance, and longed to 
meet in battle. When morning dawned he sent 
for a captive chief, and promised him his free¬ 
dom should he answer truly what he wished to 
know. 

“ ‘Tell me, then, the various heroes of our foes: 

115 




PAN THE PIPER 


where is the mightiest of all, the bold and valiant 
Rustem?’ 

“Each royal tent with silks and velvets hung, 
adorned with gold and precious stones, the captive 
chief proclaimed its master; but when he came to the 
green pavilion showing a stalwart warrior’s form 
within and a dragon writhing on the banner floating 
gayly in the breeze, he paused, for at heart he was 
loyal to the King of Persia, and he sought to save the 
life of Rustem for his King. ‘That is the tent of a 
warrior chief from China, whose name I know not,’ 
he lied. ‘Of Rustem no sign I see; mayhap he enjoys 
the beauties of his own fair land, undisturbed by 
wars.’ 

“Sohrab, amazed at Rustem’s absence from the 
fray—if indeed the captive’s words be true—and 
dismayed at not finding the brave father for 
whom he longed, quickly donned his suit of 
mail and grasped his shining javelin. Onward 
drove he his fearless horse and defiance called to 
the Persian King, who cried for Rustem’s needed 
aid. 

“In haste that hero mounted Rakush, leaping to 
the fray, and waved his dragon-pictured banner far 

116 





A MAGIC CARPET OF OLD PERSIA 


on high. Surprise held the glorious champion when 

he beheld the dauntless Sohrab and heard his mighty 

battle-crv. ‘Would thou wert my son to enter battle 

at my side,’ to himself he said; then aloud, ‘Older 

far am I than thou, and I would not wish to harm 

a youth so brave.’ 

¥ 

“Eager-eyed grew Sohrab as he answered: 

“ ‘Art thou not Rustem, whose exploits sublime 
Endear his name through every distant clime?’ 

“But Rustem, suspicious, thought unto himself, 
‘If I disclose my name some pretext will he find to 
keep from fighting, and later will he boast to the 
Tartar King.’ Then to the youth he spoke: ‘Nay, I 
make no such claims of valor; make good with me 
thy boasted skill.’ 

“Boldly rushed each to the fight with shining 
lances, and sword against sword. Shattered were 
their suits of armor as they fiercely met. Well 
matched they were: now shot they winged arrows 
and now each sought to hurl the other from his battle 
steed, and, though Rustem dealt a mighty stroke 
which might have made a mountain tremble, yet 
Sohrab held his seat. Swift then the youth let fall 




PAN THE PIPER 


with all his strength his heavy mace and dealt Rustem 
such a blow that he, the champion-hero, staggered. 
Thus they fiercely fought until ‘The shadows of 
night are gathering,’ said Rustem. ‘To-morrow shall 
we contend again.’ 

“Fiercely fought they on the morrow till the dark¬ 
ness forced them to their tents once more, but when 
they met on the following day for the third time all 
their mighty strength they called to play and this 
time was there no mercy in their glance. Even the 
sun ceased its shining where they fought and the 
whole earth trembled. With giant strength at last, 
angered that he, the champion, should meet a foe 
younger but full of strength like to himself, Rustem 
with one mighty effort hurled Sohrab to the ground. 
Wounded, and far spent, Sohrab murmured to the 
victor, who stood over him: ‘Had I but found my 
father in the fight, I should not lie here thus. Him 
did I seek, and for this led on the Tartar host in 
search of him. Fighting by his side, we should have 
won and he would have been king over this fair land. 
I sought my mother’s token, but when found, he 
did deny his name and race. Behold thou this onyx 
amulet upon my arm beneath the mail, given by the 

118 





HUNTING THE LION 

From a manuscript of Nizami, a Persian poet, A.D. 1539-1543 
British Museum, London 


OTRAIGHT Up the rocks go, up against the sky of gold instead of blue as 
^ it really is. The u-ild lions are fierce and full of life and movement, 
even though the ^Persian artist has not studied how all their bones and mus¬ 
cles are placed, but has cared more for the decorative pattern they help to 
form. lam sure you like the border with the little leaves and birds, and can 
imagine how much more beautiful it and the picture are when sprinkled 
with gold and bright with pure, rich colors. 


















A MAGIC CARPET OF OLD PERSIA 


great Rustem to my mother, Tahmineh. He will 
avenge my death.’ 

“Prostrate then fell Persia’s mighty chief: 'I am 
thy father, Rustem,’ came the groan from his break¬ 
ing heart. ‘My son is slain and by my hand!’ he 
cried, as forward on the ground he fell. But Sohrab, 
with fast-failing breath, bade him rise, ‘My father,’ 
pleaded the dying youth, ‘take me within thine arms 
and call me thy son, for swiftly must I pass away. 
Weep not, my father,’ Sohrab comforted. ‘All 
men must die. Not thine the fault, but that of the 
Turanian captive chief who denied that thou wert 
here.’ 

“So Sohrab died; and the mourning Rustem cried, 

“ ‘Here ends the war! let gentle peace succeed. 

Enough of death, . . .’ ” 

Silence fell within the Persian rugs as the tale 
ended. “Many are the tales of our great hero, 
Rustem,” said the Spirit of the Rugs. “And another 
time ye, together with the children on the earth, shall 
hear them all. But now falls the magic moonlight 
on our rugs but faintly. Wave thou thy wand, O 
Genie of the heroes’ deeds, and wave your wands, ye 

119 




PAN THE PIPER 


dancing Fairies, that our frolics on these Persian 
rugs the earth children of to-day may see ere the 
moonbeams vanish. Oh, forest animals, you need 
not keep silent as before.” 

Once more, then, did the lions and the other forest 
animals sport among the swaying forest trees. Once 
more, in play, they rolled upon the forest floor and 
called forth their various cries, while the Genie of 
the Heroes, from out the branches of a giant tree, 
peered down at them and remembered the glorious 
hunting parties of the Persian kings and heroes; 
and as he watched he dreamed those years were 
back. 

On the rug of flowers and blossoming trees the 
Fairy Folk held sway. Now they danced upon 
the feathery moss, all shimmering in the moon¬ 
beams’ silver light; now they rested on the 
branches of the queenly poplar trees, and now— 
spreading wings like dainty lacework—they flew 
over to the rug where played the sportive animals 
upon their hunting ground. There they swung upon 
the branches of the forest trees and peered down, 
delighted, at the merry beasts at play. Then the 
Queen of Fairies held up her Fairy wand, and there 


120 







PERSIAN RUG—ANIMAL MOTIF 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


T 7'OU can fairly see the swift movements of the animals at their play, 
even their tails quivering in the air ’! The lions, the jackals, and the 
deer look very real, yet they are so placed that they form patterns full of 
decoration. All around the border are many colored flowers,—much more 
beautiful when you see the color l 



















A MAGIC CARPET OF OLD PERSIA 


appeared before them a palace built of crystal and of 
gold. Lights were there in every window like the 
gleaming of a fire, and through the open door were 
seen upon the walls rich hangings of red and blue 
and green, while in the palace garden a fountain 
bubbled high. Behind, the tall green cypresses were 
outlined against the shining sky. Sweet-throated 
birds were singing and the air was fragrant with 
musk and rose. 

“The moonbeams lose their mellow light!” the 
Fairy cried. “Come, Fairies of the Persian Gardens, 
haste ye to the palace until another time the new 
moon spreads its rays upon the Persian rugs alone 
and bathes them in its light; then may we once more 
appear and make alive the rugs and tell the boys and 
girls on earth other tales of our fragrant, storied 
land.” 

Thus, when she waved her wand, the Fairies van¬ 
ished straight up the shining path. Paler grew the 
moonlight and, as the darkness gathered, the Spirit 
of the Persian Rug, clad in his many-colored robes, 
stood beneath a stiffening cypress, held up his hand, 
and, behold! the Genie of the Heroes slowly disap¬ 
peared, the sporting animals ceased their play and 

121 




PAN THE PIPER 


took the places on the rug they always held. The 
moonlight disappeared, the Spirit of the Persian Rug 
slowly vanished in the shadows, and they became 
just rugs once more, but ever beautiful in their pat¬ 
terns and their colors and ready to quicken into life 
again! 



122 





HOW COLOR CAME 
TO THE WORLD 





How Color 
Came to the World 


INTRODUCTION 


“ f\~0-0-0-HT sighed the Winds , as they pushed 
Nr along great banks of clouds close to the pur¬ 
ple hills and sent swift ripples across the waves. 
“We are weary , for we've blown the dust out of all 
four corners of the Jf r orld and swept the high arch 
of the Sky and brightened the waves of the Sea. So 
many people we have seen—and we might say swept 
and polishedas well as the sea and the sky and the 
land—that we are going to rest for a while and be 
calm. Nothing has escaped our eyes since the very 
world was born." 

“Nor ours" sang the Stars. “We shone on the 
first Mother and Father and the first Earth Children. 
We—with the aid of our great golden Moon and 
Sun—encouraged them in the building of homes and 

125 


INTRODUCTION 


the planting of gardens. We guided and protected 
them by night and we promised them the good things 
they should find through their industry: Health and 
Peace and Love. So we, too, have looked at people 
all over the World and from the time the World began. 
We do not rush about like you, for we are ever calm, 
but, like you, we see all, for we can see—though dimly 
—by day, even though it is only by night that we can 
be seen. While you rest, listen to the story of one of 
the many things we saw when all things were young. 
We could never, never tell them all, so we chose this 
from the many pictures we have shone down upon. 
It tells of a people who well knew that we Stars are 
Divine Beings, who pictured us on their rugs, their 
blankets, their jugs. They sang of us and of the 
clouds and the birds, and they knew that the 
birds sang of the sky. They heard the mocking¬ 
bird sing: 


“ ‘Thin little clouds are spread 
Across the blue of the sky, 
Thin little clouds are spread. 
Oh, happy am I as I sing, 

I sing of the clouds in the sky. 

126 




INTRODUCTION 


“ 'Thus tells the bird, 

’Tis the mocking-bird who sings, 

And I stop to hear, 

For he is glad at heart 
And I will list to his message. 

“ ‘Then up the hill, 

Up the hill I go my straight road, 

The road of good — 

Up the hill I go my straight road 
The happy road and good.' 1 

“Be calm, O Winds; and let the beauty of this, 
■which uie have seen, soothe you as you listen 

1 From Natalie Curtis’s The Indians' Book, p. 341. 


1 0*7 

A - 7 





How Color 
Came to the World 

N the very beginning of things 
the White Star Woman, the 
bright and glorious Evening 
Star, dwelt in the West, and 
from the East went forth the 
Great Star, the Morning Star, 
to find her; and westward 
journeyed he toward the Eve¬ 
ning Star so brightly shining. 
But she, to hinder his approach, placed Hard Things 
in his path, even while she beckoned him to come. 
As he started toward her the waters swept down, and 

Note: The two Indian legends are adapted from Natalie Curtis’s The 
Indians' Book. 



128 


















HOW COLOR CAME TO THE WORLD 


in the waters was a huge serpent with a monstrous 
mouth opened wide to devour him. But the Morning 
Star began to sing, and as he sang he drew from his 
belt a ball of Fire and threw it at the serpent, and 
straightway the monster vanished, the waters dried, 
and the Morning Star kept on his journey. Ten were 
the obstacles which the Evening Star placed in his 
path, and each time the Morning Star began to sing 
and drew from his belt the ball of Fire and threw it at 
the Hard Thing, which straightway vanished. It 
was thus he overcame the giant cactus, huge thorns, 
dense forests, and strange animals—foretelling the 
Hard Things men, women, and children would have 
to overcome upon the earth—and after each victory 
the Morning Star spoke, saying triumphantly, ‘I 
have overcome and am victorious!’ 

“Onward, then, passed he in triumph, far to the 
westward, until he reached the dwelling place of the 
Evening Star, guarded by four beasts—Black Bear, 
Mountain Lion, Wild Cat, and Wolf. These beasts, 
placed by the Supreme Being in the Heavens, were 
stars—Black Star, Yellow Star, White Star, Red Star 
—and in the years thereafter would send to earth 
beasts like themselves, the animals upon the earth: and 

129 







PAN THE PIPER 


they foretold other great Powers—Autumn, Spring, 
Winter, Summer; and the Clouds which would 
gather, the Winds which would blow, the Lightning 
which would flash, and the Thunder which would 
roar; four kinds of wood—the cottonwood, elm, wil¬ 
low, elder; and four kinds of corn—black, yellow, 
white, and red. 

“Far-reaching was the power of these four beasts, 
and very carefully did they protect and guard the 
Evening Star. Yet when the triumphant Morning 
Star saw them, he said, T have conquered, and ye, 
too, shall obey my commands! Thou, Black Star, 
shalt stand in the northeast, whence shall first come 
the night, for thou art Autumn. Thou, Yellow Star, 
shalt stand in the northwest, where the glorious sun 
shall sink, for thou art Spring. Thou, White Star, 
shalt stand in the south with thy face toward the 
north, whence cometh the snow, for thou art Winter. 
And thou, Red Star, shalt stand in the southeast, for 
thou art Summer.’ Thus were the Four Stars made 
to obey the Morning Star. 

“Then the victorious Morning Star drew near to 
the Evening Star, and all the Star Beasts helped him, 
and at length the Evening Star bade him welcome 

130 






HOW COLOR CAME TO THE WORLD 


and gave him a pebble which he let fall into the 
great waters, and behold! it became the Earth! 
Thereupon the Morning Star, standing straight and 
tall, took once more his ball of Fire and threw it high 
into the air, and said, ‘Stand there, and give light to all 
the world!’ And the ball of Fire became the Sun, and 
the Power of the Sun came from the Morning Star. 

“Then the Evening Star bade the Morning Star 
bring the cradle-board for the first child which 
should be born. And the Morning Star formed the 
cradle-board of cottonwood and prepared a warm 
covering from a speckled wild cat’s skin, the emblem 
of us, the Stars in the Heavens. ‘Over the board I 
will stretch a willow-tree hoop foretelling the refresh¬ 
ing rain and the colorful “Arch-above-the-Earth,” 
the Rainbow. A soft buffalo robe the child shall lie 
upon, and sweet water from the sacred spring sur¬ 
rounded by fragrant grasses he shall drink. Behold! 
the water shall come even from the glorious garden 
of the Evening Star, and in the time to come from 
that same garden soft rains shall fall upon the Earth 
to quicken the harvests.’ 

“To the Morning and Evening Stars was born a 
daughter, and her mother, the Evening Star, placed 

131 




PAN THE PIPER 


her on a cloud to send her to the Earth, and gave to 
her a small and very beautiful ear of corn, the 
‘Mother-Corn,’ saying, ‘ Plant this upon the Earth that 
all men may have food!’ Then she sent her daughter 
downward, wafted on the snow-white cloud. 

“Like gentle rain the maiden dropped from the 
cloud upon the Earth below, and to this day the name 
for maiden in the Pawnee language is ‘Standing 
Rain.’ 

“The little maid at first knew not where she was, 
and looked in this direction and that, till at last she 
saw coming toward her a boy of wondrous beauty, 
the child of the Sun and the Moon, even as she was 
the daughter of the Morning and Evening Stars; and 
they became the first mother and father of the Earth 
People. To the Stars was given the power to watch 
over people and protect them, sending storms to 
punish should they be evil, and all happiness if they 
are good.” 

“You, too, have seen much that is beautiful,” mur¬ 
mured the Winds, and the music of your song rests 
us. Have you no other memory that will bring new 
delight even to us who have looked upon such a 
multitude of things?” 


132 




HOW COLOR CAME TO THE WORLD 


“Long, long ago," sang the Stars, “a young man 
of these same Red People, only this time from the 



THE PEACE PIPE 
E. Irving Couse 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 

Terhaps this is Kloskurbeh, the first teacher, speaking his words of wisdom. 

Some day you will see this picture in the Metropolitan Museum, New 
York, and enjoy the golden-brown color of the woodland and the glow of the 
sky through the trees. 

Algonquin tribe instead of the Pawnee, appeared be¬ 
fore Kloskurbeh, their wise and great teacher. ‘Be¬ 
hold!’ he cried, as he raised his arms toward the great 
sky—‘behold! when the mighty winds first blew and 

133 




PAN THE PIPER 


the giant waves rose into snow-faced peaks, I, O 
great Teacher, sprang from the foam as it sparkled 
when touched by the majestic Sun, and the heat of 
the Sun gave me life and strength and power. Be¬ 
hold! I shall have command over the plants, the ani¬ 
mals, and the birds. Before many moons a maiden 
shall appear who shall bring me love and happiness.’ 

“When the month of May glowed, the Moon of 
Flowers, there arose before Kloskurbeh, the wise 
teacher, a maiden who said, ‘Kloskurbeh, Wise One 
of the Red Men, I have come to abide with the Youth 
who sprang from the sea foam. I have brought him 
strength and love and comfort and the days will come 
when all the people who shall come to the Earth shall 
bless me. Even as he was born of the foam of the 
sea, so I have come from a beautiful plant which shall 
give food to all Earth Children. Just as the sun shone 
upon the foam and quickened into life the man whom 
I am to aid, so did its rays bring warmth to the plant, 
and in that warmth was life, from which I cameo’ 

“Then did the great teacher, Kloskurbeh, lift up 
his hands toward the Sun, whose warmth had brought 
life to the two who should give joy to the world in 
the years to come, and he lifted his voice in praise 

134 




HOW COLOR CAME TO THE WORLD 


to the Great Spirit. ‘Great Spirit of the Universe; 
he cried, ‘to Thee belongs all praise for these, the 
first mother and father of the world/ 

“Children came to make glad the Earth, but, after 
many moons had passed, food became scarce in the 
land and the Earth Mother mourned, for it tore her 
heart to see her children suffer. Each day at noon 
she left her husband's lodge and went far away into 
the depths of the forest until many hours had passed 
and the shadows were long. Sometimes her husband 
sat making birch-bark canoes, painting upon them 
pictures of the stars and the moon; sometimes he 
walked with the animals and birds or rode far up the 
mountain side into the sunset. One day he followed 
her as she crossed to the other shore. Many hours 
she was gone, and when she returned she was happy 
until she remembered that her children hungered. 
Then she became sad again. 

“ ‘Lift thine eyes toward the glorious ball of the 
Sun whence cometh heat and life,’ bade her hus¬ 
band. ‘Look up and rejoice, for the Great Spirit 
will not let our children starve; 

“More and more sorrowful she grew when they 
reached their lodge that night, for their little children 

135 




PAN THE PIPER 


mourned, ‘We hunger, and are not happy because 
of no food!’ Then did the Earth Mother say as she 
wept, ‘In seven moons you shall be filled, so weep 
not, my children, for soon you shall be happy. Oh, 
my husband, take my life, for I promise thee that 
then the Great Spirit will send food and our children 
shall not suffer!’ 

“Thereupon her husband mourned, and he trav¬ 
eled to the northland to find their wise teacher, Klos- 
kurbeh, and to take counsel with him. With the 
seventh rising of the sun from that day, the Earth 
Husband reached home and his eyes were troubled, 
as he said, ‘Kloskurbeh, our mighty teacher, has told 
me to do the thing you wish.’ 

“Forthwith, with the passing of the life of the 
First Mother—after seven moons’ time—the fields 
were filled with beautiful tall plants which the 
mourning Earth Father called Corn, and all the 
Earth Children were filled and they rejoiced. 

“Then did Kloskurbeh, the great teacher, come, 
and as he looked at the life-giving plant he said, ‘Be¬ 
hold, all ye people, the First Mother came from the 
leaf of this beautiful plant and it was the Great Spirit 
who taught her to say and to do that which she did. 

136 







THE WHALE SHIP 
J. M. W. Turner 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


TTROM out the Land of the Very Beginning of Things came the ship 
■*- with phantom sails, bearing the King of the Land, and the Princess, 
his daughter. There was no color anywhere, but sea and sky and land 
were pale with a thick gray mist. 

The English artist who painted this ship did not care about painting just 
what he saw before him, making it very exact, but he tried to give his 
impression of a certain kind of day, like this one with the dense gray fog. 










HOW COLOR CAME TO THE WORLD 


It has taken place even as she said, for, behold! her 
power is and shall be felt throughout the whole 
world, for she has brought food to great and small 
alike; and we and all who come after us, even the 
whole world, shall love and bless her.’ ” 

“It is well that you have spoken," murmured the 
Winds, “for your song has brought us rest and peace 
and beauty. Now while your eyes, never closing, 
shine down upon the Earth, ever watchful, listen to 
one of the many things we Winds have seen." 

“Speak on, O Spirits of the Winds," murmured the 
Stars; “each one of us and even the Moon shall listen." 

“Storms and floods we have seen, calms and the 
sunniest, balmiest of days with just enough wind 
blowing. Sometimes we sweep across the plains; 
sometimes we whistle around the cathedral spires 
and many-storied buildings in mighty cities, and 
often we howl and shriek high up among the masts 
of giant ships. Perhaps you would like to know 
what he saw and did when the Sea itself began. 
W e were busy blowing the gray mists away from the 
vast dome of the Heavens, at the very beginning of 
things when the earth was formed, and the sea. We 
whistled and shrieked and laughed and sighed; but 

137 




PAN THE PIPER 


blow as hard and as fast as we might, we could not 
blow the dense mists away, and the sky was gray, and 
the sea. There was no color on Earth or Sky or Sea. 



CENTRAL PARK IN WINTER 
William J. Glackens 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


Of course this is not so pleasing without the intense blue color which helps to 
make it look like a very cold winter day. But you can enjoy all the little 
figures — mothers, nursemaids, boys and girls and babies—just as you have 
often seen them in the Park. 

“Then one day when our North Wind blew, there 
came from out of the Land of the Mists a long gray 
ship with phantom sails, and standing in the high 

138 






HOW COLOR CAME TO THE WORLD 


prow a Princess, the Daughter from the Land of 
the very Beginning of Things. Behind her on the 
deck stood the King of the land in purple-gray robes, 
and as his boat glided over the pallid waves he lifted 
his silver staff and cried: ‘Give heed, all ye Spirits 
of the Sea, the Land, and the Sky. Give heed! I, 
the King of the Land of the very Beginning of 
Things, do offer the Princess, my daughter, to the 
one of you who shall bring her the gift which pleases 
her most and offers the greatest joy to the world 
which is forming. So hear ye, Spirits of the Sky, the 
Sea, and the Land, and let those who will respond 
unto my call.’ 

“We looked upon the glorious Princess, slender 
and bright with grace and beauty, and we each one 
wished to win. “I will produce a mighty storm,’ 
cried the North Wind. ‘Snowflakes shall fall in 
thick white clouds and they shall dance and swirl 
upon the waters. Mountains of ice shall float like 
mighty ships upon the sea and the waves shall rise 
as high; a storm ’twill be of strength and power such 
as she has never known before.' 

“ ‘I shall cause the fogs and mists to gather,' 
chuckled the East Wind, ‘and they shall cover all that 

139 




PAN THE PIPER 



the Stars be seen, nor the Moon, nor the Sun, when I 
have ceased blowing together the meshes of the veil!’ 

“ ‘I will clear the mists away,’ laughed the West 
Wind, and he took a deep breath and blew until the 
fogs lifted and the mists dried and the thick gray was 
torn apart and the pale sun lighted once more a pale 

140 


has been formed—Sea, Sky, and Land—with a thick 
gray veil such as none can see beyond. Neither will 


WINDY DOORSTEP 
Abastenia St. L. Eberle 

Courtesy of 
The Worcester 
Art Museum 

One of the Winds is blowing very 
hard and sweeping the skirts of 
this busy lady to one side in long 
folds. Can’t you just feel the en¬ 
ergy and the motion in this little 
statue ? 






HOW COLOR CAME TO THE WORLD 


world of different tones of gray and silver, but there 
was no trace of color anywhere and all was the same 
as it had been before the winds had blown. 

“ ‘Let me try next,’ smiled our gentle South 
Wind, and he gayly blew such a soft breeze that 
flowers came into life upon the earth and queer little 
slender blades of grass grew upon the soil, but all 
were gray and colorless. 

“Then the King of the Sea lifted up his trident 
and cried out, ‘Come forth, ye creatures of the deep; 
come forth, ye Fairies who frolic upon the waters, 
and dance before the Princess of the Land of the 
Mists, that she may delight her eyes.’ 

“So from the very bottom of the Sea came the 
queerest creatures of the deep—monstrous fishes 
with shining silver scales, fishes shaped like stars in 
the sky, and some of the queerest of sea monsters. 
The Princess opened her eyes in wonder and in joy 
as the Foam Fairies—all in pure glistening white— 
danced lightly upon the ever-moving waters. 

“ ‘The Sea is far more lovely than before,’ cried 
the Princess, for when the South Wind ceased blow¬ 
ing, the Foam Fairies in their lace robes of white 
still clung to the crests of the waves. ‘South Wind 

141 






PAN THE PIPER 


and King of the Sea, you have brought well-pleasing 
gifts.’ 

“ 'Let all other contestants bring forth their gifts 
that the Princess may choose from all,’ commanded 
the King of the Land of the Beginning of Things. 
‘For Time is waiting to begin and thousands and 
thousands of years are to come.’ 

“ T, too, have a gift to bring, Fair Princess who 
came forth from the Mists,’ sang a voice from the 
Sky. ‘Behold!’ 

“And from the pale Sun, which had been sending 
down its cool light, came a sudden bright radiance 
which had not been there before. No longer did it 
shed a cold silver light, quite like to that of the Moon, 
but a glow like melted gold which changed the sea 
from its silver gray to a golden glow, and as the Prin¬ 
cess gazed up into the Sky she saw its dense gray 
clear, and the softest blue peep out. 

“ ‘It is so beautiful!’ she cried, as she stretched out 
her arms. ‘Let it last as long as the world shall last!’ 

“ ‘It is Color which I bring to you, O Princess 
who came sailing over the Sea,’ said the Sun. ‘The 
Sea and the Sky and the Land have been pale and 
gray too long. In me are all colors which shall bring 

142 





METROPOLITAN TOWER 

Guv C. Wiggins 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


nr*HIS e .American artist of to-day has selected a certain time of year and 
"*■ kind of day and just a very little part of the great city of Xew York. 
We know that it has been snowing, and we enjoy the contrast of the white 
snow against the buildings. The leaden sky makes us feel that it is going to 
snow some more. Just as we saw Rhythm, or Motion, in the curl of 
Hokusai’s Wave, so we see it in the patterns of the smoke. We enjoy, too, 
the irregular buildings and the towers of the city, hazy against the winter 
sky. The artist, Mr. Wiggins, has not gone out into the country Jor his 
picture, but has found beauty right in the city of Xew York. 











HOW COLOR CAME TO THE WORLD 


beauty to the eyes and joy to the souls of the behold¬ 
ers. Let the Princess see now what colors shall 
glorify the Sky and the Earth and the Water/ 

“The Princess watched standing, with eyes shaded 
by her slender hand, the Sky, the Sea, and the Land. 
All of us Winds—West, South, North, East—held 
our very breaths to watch and listen. The King of 
the Sea rode upon the crest of the highest wave, sur¬ 
rounded by the little Foam Fairies, who draped their 
lacy, white, shimmering robes in graceful folds 
upon the waters crowning the waves, and even you 
Stars ceased your singing and tried to peer through 
the light of the sky. 

“Down poured the wonderful colors, quite 
changing the silver and gray. The Green Color 
Fairies floated on the Sun’s rays until they reached 
the Earth, where they danced such a wonderful dance 
among the soft blades of grass, and everywhere they 
went with their twinkling feet they left a gorgeous 
radiance so that the trees and the grass became alive 
and vivid. Then one of the Fairies bent over and 
touched the soft flowers which had bloomed, so that 
the velvet green was brightened here and there with 
the most delicate pink and yellow and lavender, and 

143 





PAN THE PIPER 


all the many flowers twinkled like you wonderful 

Stars in the skv. 

* 

“The Princess laughed aloud in glee and clapped 
her delicate hands as she cried, ‘Such beautiful Color 
Fairies! O Sun, I pray thee let me see more !’ 

“From out the soft blue sky fluttered the floating 
garments of the Sky Spirits, and as they peered down 
into the Sea the very waves reflected them, though 
in a deeper blue, with here and there a touch of green 
or yellow, and often shadows of deep purple-blue, 
making the lacy garments of the Foam Fairies look 
a purer and more sparkling white. 

“‘Watch closely!’ called the Sun, and, behold! 
as he took his place in the west, close down to the 
motionful waters, the Sky around grew gold and 
brilliant red and deep black purple, until all was 
ablaze with color, and its glory was reflected in the 
Sea King’s realm, in the midst of which shone a 
path as of beaten gold leading from the Sun himself 
even to the boat of the Princess, which also had taken 
color. Brown became its high prow and flaming red 
its well-filled sail, while the Princess herself was even 
more gracious, with hair of gold and floating tur¬ 
quoise mantle. ‘Hail, O Sun!’ she cried, ‘thou 

144 





THE JE GEAX SEA 
Frederic E. Church 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


TTERE is the ‘Rainbow dArch, the gift of the Sun to the J l'orId! I can 
•*- just hear you say, "What is a rainbow without color?” We shall 
have to imagine the colors — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet. 

At first our American landscape artists thought they must paint very 
grand subjects with ruins of Greek temples or, when they painted scenes of 
their own country, something very big, like Niagara Falls. They painted 
very truthful pictures of what they saw before them, with great expanses of 
sky and field and hills and water, but they didn’t put into their pictures 
much of themselves, and they didn't know how to select a certain kind of 
day and place, a mood” in landscape. 








HOW COLOR CAME TO THE WORLD 


hast pleased me most, and thou shalt bring the greatest 
joy to the Earth People. No longer is the world a 
silver gray, but vibrant with many perfect colors, all 
coming from thee and blended until each is in har¬ 
mony with its neighbor. The people who are to 
come upon the Earth shall rejoice, for it will gladden 
their eves and their hearts in the many days to come. 
Thou shalt take me to thy home!’ 

“So, aided by her father, the King of the Land 
of the Very Beginning of Things, the Princess 
stepped from her high-prowed boat and sped lightly 
up the golden path to the waiting arms of the 
victorious Sun. 

“ ‘Thus let it be!’ sighed the Winds and the Sea 
King. ‘Thou hast been victorious, O Sun. Soft 
breezes, a gentle sea, and a cloudless sky we will give 
as gifts on this, thy day of union with the Princess 
who came in her high-prowed boat from out of the 
Mists.' The West Wind blew a gentle blast, the 
South Wind quickened more color-bright flowers 
into life. The shimmering waves reflected the sky 
and all the colors which came from the victorious 
Sun as the Princess was welcomed, and at that very 
moment an arch, bright with all colors placed so that 

MS 




PAN THE PIPER 


each merged into the other—red, orange, yellow, 
green, blue, and violet, spanned the sky—the wed¬ 
ding arch of the conquering Sun and the beautiful 
Princess who came across the Sea. 

“Then spoke the Sun. ‘Thy daughter hast chosen 
me, O King, and this Rainbow Arch shall be our 
gift to the world. After a shower has sent down its 
cooling rain, this bow of Color shall appear as a 
promise of harvests, and prosperous, happy living, 
as a symbol of better things.’ 

“Thus, shining silver Stars, came color to the 
Earth; and to the Sun the Earth People owe the 
many tones of green, brown, yellow, orange, red; 
the purple of the distant hills, the soft blue in the sky, 
and the brilliant colors at dawn and at dusk, the deep 
blues and greens of the Sea. Multitudes of other 
stories we could tell—we who visit all countries and 
all peoples at all times. We frolic with the clouds, 
tease the boys and girls, chase the birds, but most 
often we sport with the ever-changing and ever- 
moving waves, calling forth their many moods: 
Sometimes 

“Gray is the sky and cold with rain 
And dark the storm-tossed waves. 

146 








THE EDGE OF THE WOODS 
Theodore Rousseau 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


r THlS is one of the places of which the Ji’inds spoke: “ We shall blow 
upon the still green places in the woods'.” I think you will like the 
wind clouds in the sky, the great mass of foliage on your right balanced by 
the cluster of slender trees on the left, the path leading into the woods. 
Although you cannot see the colors here, you know there are many shades of 
green, especially a deep, cool green, and even without the color you get some¬ 
thing of the feeling of the woods, 











HOW COLOR CAME TO THE WORLD 


The North Wind shrieks, the East Wind blows 
Across the gray, wet plain. 

Aha! laughs the Spirit of the Sea, 

‘A triumphant time I’ll have; 

I'll ruffle the clouds and threaten the ships, 

Till they cry out for mercy to me.’ 

But the West Wind hears and the warm South gales, 
And they drive the cold away; 

The chill winds leave with the damp gray fog, 

And each boat swings on gladsome sail. 

Sing ho! for the frolicsome, purple-blue waves 
Decked with the foam-white lace. 

Sing ho! for the glistening yellow-green elves 
Who leap from the deep-sea caves. 

Sing ho! for the warmth of the golden sun, 

And the arch of the soft blue sky, 

When the gentle winds blow, it has ever been so, 

Since all things in the world were begun." 

“We have liked vour storv, Winds, but the skv is 

J y ' ' 0 

darkening now, and we must shine with all our 

strength to light the Earth. We shall look to-night 

upon the silent, shadowed fields, and there is beauty 

in the light and dark as well as in the color; we shall 

shine upon homes and churches, and upon the silent 

Dawn when it comes with its brightness to greet the 

Eastern Sky.” 

* 

“We shall blow upon the still green places in the 

147 




PAN THE PIPER 


woods,” shouted the Winds; “upon vast plains of 
shining sands, and we shall even find beauty when 
we hurry down the city streets, in the purple of their 
pavements, strange with shadowed patterns, the 
rhythm of the smoke curling high, the crowds of 
people, many-colored in their robes, with here and 
there a cluster of rainbow-bright balloons. There is 
beauty everywhere and everyone can find and claim 
it, for all—rich and poor alike—may see and enjoy. 
And to us who have lived and seen since the very 
Beginning of Things belongs the power to see and 
hear and tell all things.” 



148 






AROUND THE 
CAMP FIRE 
OF THE ANIMALS 
























Around the 

Camp Fire of the Animals 


INTRODUCTION 


JXESIDES some of the real and famous people in 
U India about three hundred years ago, I wonder 
whether you would not like also to meet some of the 
animals of that far-away land, especially the ele¬ 
phant, since he had so much to do with the lives of 
the people, and especially with a very daring ride 
which the Empress, Xur Jahan, took in the midst of 
all sorts of dangers. 

Once before we have given the animals a chance 
to talk when with the other carved folk they jumped 
through the frame of a landscape picture and played 
among the trees on a sun-warmed hillside. I thought 
it would be*rather good fun to give them a chance 
again, for I am quite sure they have many thoughts 
and ever so many adventures not only among them- 

151 


INTRODUCTION 


selves, but having to do with man; and some of them 
help make history. 

You know it takes a long while to learn a new 
language and you have to study hard before you can 
understand people who speak it. Unfortunately, 
we haven t books on the language of the animals and 
the birds, and it's only those with understanding 
hearts and minds who could ever know even the 
tiniest bit of what they have to say. 

But if we have those understanding hearts and 
listen very hard, I think perhaps the animals will let 
us hear them speak. They may be a little hard to 
understand at first, but if you listen closely it will be 
easier as the time goes on; and watch especially for 
the mention of the great Indian Em press, Nur Jahan! 


152 





Around the 

Camp Fire of the Animals 



AST thou ever felt a 
howdah upon thy back?" 
asked the Biggest of the 
Elephants, breaking the 
silence which had lasted 
for many minutes in the 
jungle of the Punjab 
about three centuries ago. 
Above, the deep night blue of the sky was silvered 
by the moon. 


153 


PAN THE PIPER 


The rustle of the tall jungle grass could be heard 
in the stirring of the warm night wind, and the bam¬ 
boo stems hit upon one another. The cries of the 
birds, the scratching of the bats’ claws in the trees 
or bushes, mingled with the queer rustling noises in 
the leaves and grass as a restless snake changed its 
position. The tall bushes, the feathery bamboo, the 
overhanging vines and the creepers of the thick¬ 
ets, the thick and heavy foliage, all made little rus¬ 
tling, musical sounds as the warm breeze moved 
them. 

“Art thou going to tell a story?’’ whined the 
Jackal, beating the underbrush with his bushy tail. 
“Begin, and I will lie here on this soft bed and listen. 
But, O Biggest of Elephants, I pray thee to lie down 
as well, for otherwise thy monstrous back blocks my 
view of the purple sky, and thou knowest what an 
eye I have for color!” 

“Thou impudent one!’’ snorted the Biggest of 
Elephants. “Thou dependest upon thy size to keep 
thee from punishment, knowing well that we Big 
Creatures of the Jungle could not harm such little 
folk as thou! But keep to thy place with the other 
small ones of the jungle forest, else thou shalt not 

154 




AROUND THE CAMP FIRE OF ANIMALS 


stay near enough to hear the secrets and tales which 
the Big Creatures know. Does this meet with ap- 



ANIMALS 

Persian miniature showing Chinese influence, a.d. 1262 


Aren't these the most delightful of animals, having such a jolly time together, 
and really moving so very quickly, although perhaps all their bones and mus¬ 
cles are not in just the right place! But everyone U'ill agree that they fill 
the space in a very pleasing way, and form a decorative pattern with the 
plump old tree in the background! 

proval, O Jungle Folk?” he trumpeted, turning his 
big head from side to side. 

“Thus it shall be!” bellowed all the other elephants, 

J 55 






PAN THE PIPER 


who were lying down one after another on the soft 
forest floor. 

“Some day I shall forget and slay him!” snarled 
the great Tiger, whose eyes shone from out the 
bushes like two great emeralds. 

“He is always playing some prank on us!” howled 
the Wolves, who were also listening, and it would 
have fared ill with Master Jackal had not the Big¬ 
gest of Elephants decided to begin. 

“No camp fire of burning logs we need,” he re¬ 
marked, as he slowly and with great dignity took his 
place upon the ground, the last in the long row of 
elephants. “The moonlight is brighter than it has 
been for a long time past—as long ago as the last 
jungle meeting. Brother Elephant, thou who hast 
joined us but lately and art a newcomer among us, 
I asked thee a question which thou wouldst have an¬ 
swered at the time of asking, had not the sly creature 
at my right, whose tail I can see thumping up and 
down within the brush, interrupted thee. I beg thee 
to speak now.” 

“Many a time have I felt a howdah upon my back,” 
answered the new arrival in the jungle, “and often 
has my mahout ridden me astride just behind my 

156 





AROUND THE CAMP FIRE OF ANIMALS 


ears. Since it is the custom at a jungle meeting to 
entertain with stories of adventure—just as the ma¬ 
houts do around their jungle fire—I'll tell a tale that 
will make the big ears of my brother elephants stand 
on end. Since I am a guest, however, let others speak 
first while we listen to the jungle roars and whispers, 
and watch the camp fire made by moonlight.” 

A Tiger jumped out into the silver light which 
made his broad stripes more vivid than ever, and told 
of how he had been captured by Man when he was 
only a Tiger-cub. 

The moonlight still silvered the forest, the night 
wind still moved its dense growth, the animals and 
the birds talked and chattered among themselves and 
sent out their jungle calls. The Wolf, the Panther, 
and even the offending Jackal each told some tale or 
other before the Big Stranger Elephant would begin. 
At length he rolled into the light and started. 

“My storv is one which I have often heard my 
honored father tell, of how the Empress Nur Jahan 
led her troops across a wide river in the midst of the 
enemy’s fire. You will remember, those of you who 
are grown”—with a contemptuous look at the Jackal, 
and the Monkey who was clinging with one hand to 

157 







PAN THE PIPER 


the dense foliage above and peering down at them 
with an impudent look—“of hearing your parents 
tell of the Emperor Jahangir, the royal husband of 
Nur Jahan, the father of Shah Jahan, our late Em¬ 
peror, who budded the glorious Taj Mahal, and 
grandfather of our present Emperor. Well do I 
know that the jungle wilds have many ears, yet I 
dare to say, ‘Would that we had a ruler good and 
just like the noble Akbar or his grandson Shah 
Jahan!’” 

“Aye! thou speakest true!” growled all the big 
forest animals, their roars mingled with the high 
notes of the smaller ones and the chirpings of the 
birds; while from the thicket came the roar of the 
King of the Tigers, who was on the watch for prey, 
yet near enough to listen to the Stranger Elephant’s 
story. “Aye!” they roared once more. 

“Well,” continued the Stranger Elephant, giving 
a crouching, sleepy Panther a push with his trunk 
that sent him crashing into the underbrush right on 
to the sulky Jackal’s tail, and then rolling himself 
into a more comfortable position—“well, you all 
know that Nur Jahan had been the wife of-” 

“The Tiger-slayer!” growled the Tiger, his great 

158 







AROUND THE CAMP FIRE OF AXIMALS 

green eyes flashing. “I am descended from a Tiger 
whom he slew; but it was in equal fight in the jungle, 





SHAH JAHAN OX AN ELEPHANT 
Indian miniature, School of Shah Jahan 


The Indian artists were more daring than the ^Persian, and made portraits 
of their emperors and nobles, some of them seated upon very real-looking 
elephants and horses. 

and the man was unarmed and matched his strength 
against that of my ancestor, without the spears and 
other weapons which men use against us now! But 
pray continue, Brother Elephant!” 

159 







PAN THE PIPER 


“When at last he was slain through the jealousy 
of the Emperor Jahangir, his wife was taken to the 
royal palace where she was made the Empress, not 
knowing that the Emperor had been responsible for 
the death of her husband. Her name was changed 
to Nur Jahan, ‘The Light of the World,’ and she 
began to control the Emperor and the Empire.” 

“She liked not the Emperor’s son, Shah Jahan, so 
Eve heard tell,” mumbled one of the crouching 
elephants, slowly opening his big eyes. 

“That she did not,” returned the Stranger Ele¬ 
phant, “for she found he had plans to seize the 
throne. At last she persuaded the Emperor that this 
was so, and Mohabet Khan, the imperial general, 
advanced with his troops from the Punjab in the 
north, joined the royal army, and defeated Shah 
Jahan. Then did the Empress Nur Jahan show in¬ 
gratitude, for she feared the victorious general’s 
influence with Jahangir, her Emperor, and she 
wanted to be all-powerful; and, contrary to the laws 
of the jungle, mankind—even sovereigns—allow 
ingratitude to sway their deeds. In the jungle we 
never forget, but show our gratitude even to 
man.” 

160 






AROUND THE CAMP FIRE OF ANIMALS 


“Never shall we forget the hunter who saved my 
oldest cub from death by strangling, when the mon¬ 
strous serpent wound itself around him,” murmured 
a Mother Lion, caressing a baby lion with her huge 
paw. "He is safe with all the jungle animals!” 

“With man it is sometimes different,” said the 
Stranger Elephant, “and Nur Jahan persuaded the 
Emperor that his general, Mohabet Khan, was not 
loyal to him, and he summoned him to court. An¬ 
gered at the ingratitude of a sovereign whom he had 
often helped to hold his throne, the general answered 
the Emperor’s summons, followed by five thousand 
Rajputs devoted to him as their leader. 

“Jahangir and his ‘Light of the World’ were en¬ 
camped on their way to Kashmere, which Jahangir 
called ‘a garden of eternal spring, ... a delightful 
flower bed. ... In the soul-enchanting spring the 
hills and plains are filled with blossoms; the gates, 
the walls, the courts, the roofs are lighted up by the 
torches of banquet-adorning tulips.' 

“To think that so big an animal as thou shouldst 
like and remember such beautiful words!" mocked 
the Jackal, who had not ventured to speak for some 


1 From the Memoirs of Jahangir. 

161 




PAN THE PIPER 


time. “I thought it was only we smaller forest folk 
who were able to enjoy the finer things.” 

Such a disturbance followed! The Elephants 
trumpeted until they set the whole forest to shrieking, 
the Tigers roared so fiercely that the shadowy bats 
flew away with dismal flapping of their wings; the 
Wolves howled in high derision, and a big Panther, 
leaning over, cuffed the offending Jackal as she 
would her cub. When the echoes of the trumpetings, 
the roarings, the snarlings, the whinings, the 
shriekings, and chatterings had died away, the 
Stranger Elephant continued. 

“Know, Jackal, that we larger jungle animals are 
often of superior intelligence, which my tale will 
show, unless thy interruption comes again. When 
Mohabet Khan arrived near the Emperor’s camp, a 
messenger told him that he would not be admitted to 
the presence of his ruler until he had accounted for 
the charges made against him. Angered, yet still 
hoping for justice from the Emperor, he sent his 
son-in-law to complain of his treatment, but his mes¬ 
senger was ill treated and insulted. Imagine, Jungle 
Brothers, how you would have felt if you had sent 
your children to speak for you and they had been ill 

162 




AROUND THE CAMP FIRE OF ANIMALS 


treated! Just so felt this father. He resolved to 
attack the camp with his five thousand soldiers, cap¬ 
ture the Emperor, force him to hear what he had to 
say, and treat him with justice. The Imperial camp 
was on the banks of a river across which was built 
a bridge of boats. When the army of Jahangir com¬ 
menced its march, the Emperor remained in his royal 
tent, planning to follow with his guard in a leisurely 
manner. Behold! As soon as the royal troops had 
crossed the bridge, Mohabet Khan advanced with 
his many followers, set fire to the bridge, and so cut 
off Jahangir’s retreat. Followed by his Rajput sol¬ 
diers, the general reached the royal tent, overcame 
the guards and the nobles, and advanced to the inner 
tent, where at last he faced his ungrateful sovereign. 
‘What meaneth this, Mohabet Khan!’ demanded 
Jahangir. Touching the ground and then his fore¬ 
head, Mohabet replied, ‘Plotted against by my ene¬ 
mies, I put myself under the protection of my 
Emperor who once was my friend.' Then he ordered 
the Emperor to mount, and away they rode, sur¬ 
rounded by the Rajput warriors, until the royal 
prisoner was safe within Mohabet’s tent. 

“But they had reckoned without the Empress, who 

163 




PAN THE PIPER 


had long controlled the affairs of state. She had 
escaped, crossing the stream on one of us, and 
joined the Imperial army. They decided to ford the 
river, attack the rebel general, and rescue the Em¬ 
peror. But dangerous and treacherous were the 
deep pools, and when the army reached the other 
shore they were wet and discouraged and their 
powder was damp. Among the first to land, I have 
heard my father say, was the Empress Nur Jahan, 
herself undaunted and giving courage to the men. 
Mounted upon one of us, an Elephant of great size 
and strength, holding in her lap her baby grand¬ 
daughter—no older than yonder baby Elephants— 
and disguised, she met the foe. Balls tore holes in 
her gorgeous howdah canopy, and arrows hit against 
the gold and precious stones. Then—and mark ye, 
mothers—an arrow wounded the little human cub 
resting in her lap!” 

“O-o-h-h!” moaned the Jungle Mothers, as they 
reached out with their paws over their Jungle Chil¬ 
dren to see whether they were safe. “She must have 
felt the way we do when the hunters’ spears and 
arrows fall all around us and sometimes hit our 
cubs!” 


164 








BATTLE SCENE 
Persian Miniature, a.d. 1539 


J-JERE we are looking again at a Persian picture where the men on 
horseback are net portraits of real men and the horses are surely not 
as true to nature as the elephants in the last picture. 













AROUND THE CAMP FIRE OF ANIMALS 


“Still undaunted, the Empress Nur Jahan stood 
in her howdah, waved a scarf to encourage the royal 
troops, and cried out, ‘For your Emperor and your 
Empress!’ Swift and sure she sent her arrows, too, 
and many of her enemies fell beneath them, but her 
followers were overcome. The noble Elephant who 
bore her was wounded many times, but he never 
wavered. He was a descendant of the warrior Ele¬ 
phants who met the great Greek general Alexander 
two thousand years ago. An arrow sang close by 
the Elephant’s ears, another and another, and soon 
the mahout was slain. But the great Elephant went 
on obeying the least command of his mistress, until, 
terribly wounded and knowing he could not hold out 
much longer, he plunged into the river. Down he 
sank, his strength going, but when the battle-stained 
waters had almost reached the howdah, he made a 
last valiant effort, plunging blindly in his attempt to 
keep the Empress and the baby above the stream, and 
so was carried down the river, at last reaching shore 
with his brave mistress, Nur Jahan, wounded but 
safe.” 

“I can just see her cleansing the wounds of her 
little cub!” purred a Mother Tiger as she cleaned 

165 




PAN THE PIPER 


the face of one of her children with her rough 
tongue. 

“But what happened then?” asked the Big 
Panther, made wide awake by his interest in the tale. 

“Nur Jahan joined the Emperor, and Mohabet 
Khan, like the brave and generous leader he was— 
knowing full well that once the Empress was re¬ 
leased she would plot against him—set his royal 
prisoners free. Many other plottings followed, but 
they were interrupted by the sudden death of Jahan¬ 
gir, and his son, Shah Jahan, returned to Agra as 
ruler, and the power of Nur Jahan ceased.” 

“But who was the brave Elephant whose strength 
and devotion enabled the Empress to escape her foes 
that day?” questioned several of the Jungle Folk 
together. 

“My honored father,” came the answer from the 
Stranger Elephant. 

Then up rose the Biggest of Elephants in all his 
dignity and power. “Stranger Elephant thou art no 
more,” he said. “Thou whose ancestors have among 
them one who has warred against Alexander the 
Great and another who has borne upon his back the 
greatest of rulers, deserves a place of honor among 

166 





AROUND THE CAMP FIRE OF ANIMALS 


the Jungle People. Thou shalt be Chief Councilor 
and preside over our moonlight meetings. Do you 
all agree, O Brothers?" 

“Aye!” came the answer from the many Jungle 
Folk, spoken in many different tones, from the deep 
voice of the fiercest Tiger to the high little squeak of 
the tiniest baby cub. 

The Biggest of Elephants wound his long trunk 
around that of their new jungle friend, and they lay 
down side by side. Still the silver light of the moon 
filled the forest, still could be heard the jungle calls, 
and still the tall grass swayed gently in the breeze. 






MOONLIGHT 
MOVING PICTURES 




Moonlight 
Moving Pictures 


INTRODUCTION 



T wasn't an invitation written or printed such as 


Ji we are accustomed to receive; I think it must 
have come by wireless straight to the ears of the little 
flying Mercury, the messenger who had carried so 
many messages to the gods in the olden days, and 
whose winged sandals and cap have lost none of 
their power. And it must have been that Mercury 
flitted lightly through the air that night, and whis¬ 
pered the invitation he had received to a few of the 
boys and girls who had been still so long, ever since 
the living boys and girls had last wished them alive. 
This time the call came from way over across the 
seas from the picture children of the artists who had 
lived many years ago. 

<( You picture children of the artists who live to- 


INTRODUCTION 


day,” Mercury whispered, “are invited to a great 
festival of the artists who lived yesterday, to be held 
at Versailles, France, to-morrow night. By the 
fastest airship ever dreamed of you shall go, and you 
will start when the first long shadows gather, and be 
back in your places the very next morning, so swiftly 
will you travel. It was left to me to select two boys 
and two girls, and I have chosen the Little Dancing 
Maiden, the Girl with the Gazelles, the Boy with the 
Canoe, and the Boy from In the Garden. So pre¬ 
pare yourselves in spirit for this big festival time, but 
show not by word or by glance that this invitation 
has come to you, else you will unduly attract the 
attention of the curious passer-by, and perhaps be 
removed for inspection! Remember, too, the cour¬ 
tesy and respect you owe the artists whom you will 
meet from the Olden Time and represent well the 
artists of To-day who made you live. I wish that I, 
too, might go, but I must remain, though there will 
be many to welcome you. 

“Little do the living people know what good times 
we pictured folk can have; what rare good times, for 
there are hours when we can bridge the Past and 
enjoy those who have carved and used the brush be- 




INTRODUCTION 


fore, and sometimes even come to know the people 
they have made. So heed ye, O boys and girls of 
living artists, this message 1 have given you. To¬ 
morrow night when the first long shadows gather, 
listen for my call!” 


173 







IL/VIWE L>XN N SUS ElVS-m E\' N fi-IAMENTO VTVTIS 0 (A £V N VTVTK EU'A 


MVurrvn«EM m 


FT < VTt lArtA- LAVr>ATE EVH IN 


Moonlight 
Moving Pictures 

T wasn’t so bad a passage, after all!” 
chuckled the Boy with the Canoe. “If 
only Earth People could travel as 
quickly, they’d all be doing it. What 
a wonderful wood we are in, with such 
giant oak trees making long avenues 
up and down and right and left! They 
go up so high they almost touch that 
winking star up there!” 

“Sh-h!” whispered the Girl with the Gazelles, 
“There’s some one coming down that long avenue of 
trees. Why, they are all boys and girls, with not a 
single grown-up among them!” 

“Hm!” sniffed the Dancing Maiden, “you can’t 
tell the difference between a girl and a boy! They’re 
all boys, only they have on long robes something like 

174 





























MOOXLIGHT MOriXG PICTURES 


girls* dresses, the way the Greeks dressed, you know. 
I wonder who they are! Let's all call together, 
‘Hello!' But I don't suppose they speak English.” 

“Hello!” came back the shout, greatly to their sur¬ 
prise. “We are sent by Messer Botticelli, the Master 
of Ceremonies, to conduct you to the banquet table. 
You may call us the Singing Boys, and you’ll know 
why before the evening is over.” 

On they walked rather slowly that they might enjoy 
the height of the trees, the shining stars, the shadowy 
arches among the oaks. Not long was it before they 
saw near the entrance to the wood and not far from 
a great fountain, which was sending its waters 
straight up into the white moonlight, a long table 
garlanded and festooned with leaves and flowers. 
Around it were standing—each in his place—a com¬ 
pany of men and women, who bowed and smiled as 
the newcomers drew near. 

“You found them with no trouble, I see,” smiled 
a tall, slender gentleman, wearing a long scarlet cape 
over his shoulders and a close-fitting scarlet cap upon 
his head. “Your places are here, opposite me, and 
as soon as you are seated I am going to tell you just 
why you have been transplanted here. First, how- 






PAN THE PIPER 


ever, in the name of all here met, I welcome you boys 
and girls from the United States of America, not 
only to France, but to all of the countries on this side 
of the big sea. 

“I, Sandro Botticelli, a Florentine artist of the 
time of the powerful Medici princes who were al¬ 
ways ready to help artists and poets, have been sum¬ 
moned to preside over this gathering of artists of 
many years ago, where old friends may meet once 
more, and where we may come to know and under¬ 
stand those who lived not in our time. It was further¬ 
more the desire of the illustrious gentleman at my 
right, that certain pictured boys and girls from the 
young republic of the United States of America 
should be present, that they might judge which pic¬ 
tures of those they shall see they enjoy the most. And 
he whose master mind planned this and made it 
known to all of us is no other than the famed 
Lorenzo de Medici of Florence, still the friend and 
patron of artist souls as he was in the days when he 
held his court in the beautiful City of Flowers. All 
hail to Duke Lorenzo!” 

“We are very glad to see you, Sir,” answered the 
Boy with the Canoe. (Of course he didn’t have the 

176 





CAXTORIA, SINGING GALLERY 
Luca della Robbia 
Cathedral Museum, Florence 


F 


1 ROM throbbing throats comes the joyous sound, soaring out and up into 
the great cathedral, one of the boys beating time on his companion’s 


shoulder. 






MOONLIGHT MOVING PICTURES 


canoe with him then, but we call him that because 
he always did have one in the picture.) At that he 
was going to sit down in the gilded chair, when the 
Dancing Maiden caught him by the arm and hastily 
whispered something in his ear. “We’ve all read 
about you, Sir,” he added, “and about Mr. Botticelli, 
and we thank you for calling us here to-night.” 

The great Lorenzo stood to his full height. “Wel¬ 
come, little friends,” he said, and although his voice 
was harsh in sound, his smile was kindly. “It is most 
fitting that we meet at Versailles, the meeting place, 
of late, of men from all the world who gathered to 
solve world problems. And not only are my artists 
here, but those from many other countries. But the 
moments pass—so on with the festival, Sandro Bot¬ 
ticelli, for we must send you back to your places 
before the red dawn comes, for only until then may 
we live. Let each moment of this festive night be as 
a whole hour of other nights.” 

Light-footed maidens in colorful robes brought 
food and drink in golden and jeweled dishes made by 
skilled goldsmiths from many lands. Fountains sent 
their silver water up even higher than the highest oak 
tree, and the moonlight and the starlight with their 

i?7 




PAN THE PIPER 


countless rays danced upon them until every drop of 
water seemed alive in the glowing light. The gen¬ 
tlest breezes stirred the great avenues of trees to the 
softest of whisperings, and now and then eyes wan¬ 
dered toward the overarching trees, as if picturing 
just how it must have looked down the long arched 
roads when kings and queens of France, brilliant in 
satins and jewels, and followed by many of their 
court, walked slowly along. They could have 
dreamed on forever, had not Messer Botticelli 
interrupted them. 

“Seconds, minutes flit past,” he said, “and our fes¬ 
tival time is short. Watch closely near those tallest 
trees where the moon’s light is the brightest.” 

“Just one moment, please, dear Mr. Botticelli,” 
cried the Girl with the Gazelles, rising from her seat. 
“I cannot keep them quiet!” She clapped her hands 
sharply together, and off among the oak trees 
bounded the gazelles and were soon lost among the 
shadows. 

Then the Master of Ceremonies, Sandro Botticelli, 
once more held up his hand, and every eye was turned 
to where a big screen of light appeared against the 
trees. 


178 




MO OX LIGHT MOVING PICTURES 


“Why, it’s like the moving pictures!” exclaimed 
the Boy from In the Garden. He had seen a moving 
picture taken in his Museum. 

“These are Moonlight Moving Pictures,” laughed 
the friendly Duke. 

“I can see people and color now!” whispered the 
Dancing Maiden, almost sitting upon the table in 
her eagerness to see. “Sh-h!” 

Slowly but surely the figures took shape, and just 
as there was formed a complete picture His High¬ 
ness the Duke took his place at Botticelli’s side. 

“These moonlight pictures are for the joy of us 
all. Each one of the makers of painted and carved 
pictures in the past has the power to show us to-night 
one of his works—whichever one each may choose— 
and, you boys and girls from far-away America, we 
wish to select the one which pleases you the most.” 

“O-o-h! Just think of telling the other Museum 
children all about this!” they whispered, fairly daz¬ 
zled, not only bv the moonbeams, but by the honor 
which was theirs. Each straightened to his full 
height. The Dancing Maiden spread out her wide 
skirt until every fold was in place; the Canoe Boy 
sat way forward on the very tip of his gilded chair; 

179 






PAN THE PIPER 


the Boy from In the Garden scarcely moved in his 
excitement; the Girl with the Gazelles quite forgot 
where she was, in the presence of so many distin¬ 
guished people, and spun round and round until she 
sank down out of breath, just as the Duke cried 
out: “The first picture is complete. Attention, 
please!” 

“It is very beautiful,” whispered the children, and 
the children in the picture smiled at them. Three of 
them there were, in such a beautiful meadow, with 
the big, fat trees in the back, and right in the front a 
boy no bigger than the Boy from In the Garden, with 
his arms around his little shy, barefooted sister. 
Quite close to them, at the side, and leaning against 
a great rock, was the daintiest of maidens in a soft, 
light dress with beads around her neck just the color 
of her cheeks. The boy looked straight out of the 
picture. 

“It’s fine to see you,” he said. “We are glad to 
come for you to see, and I wonder if you’ll choose us? 
We are English children.” 

“It will be so hard to choose,” murmured the 
Dancing Maiden. “We never shall agree!” 

The picture faded away, and when the moon’s rays 

180 





THE GLEANERS 
Jean Frangois Millet 
Louvre, Paris 


J\/fR- MILLET understood and sympathized with everyday working 
^ people, and has painted in this picture the beauty and poetry of every¬ 
day work. There is the beauty of space and form and line. 







MOONLIGHT MOVING PICTURES 


shone brightly again, they saw no boys and girls, 
but a vast golden field stretching back ever so far, 
with wagons of corn and great stacks and bundles 
of it. Bending over and picking up ears and husks 
that had been left behind were three French peasant 
women, looking so very real that the children were 
not a bit surprised when they straightened their 
backs and then leaned over again with the same big 
curves. 

“Why—they are really beautiful, even though they 
are just doing their everyday work in the fields!” 
murmured the Girl with the Gazelles, surprised, and 
she did not see the glances which the long-ago artists 
exchanged. 

“When the light and the colors changed, as another 
artist held up his hand, they found themselves look¬ 
ing not at great oak trees, but at more delicate feath- 
erv ones, and beneath the arched branches at such 
wonderful colors of the southern Italian sky, at the 
purple of the distant mountains and the soft rose of 
the sunset clouds. As they looked, from beneath the 
shadowed trees danced graceful nymphs, and as they 
listened they could hear the music of their song and 
they could just make out the words: 

181 




PAN THE PIPER 


“O trees, with the earliest green of springtime hours, 
And all spring’s pale and tender violets! 

O grove, so dark the proud sun only lets 
H is blithe rays gild the outskirts of thy towers! 

O pleasant countryside!” 1 

One after another the moonlight pictures came, 
each with its charm of line, of color, and of form. 
Then came a softening of the moon’s rays and from 
the distance a harmony of sounds so sweet that even 
the birds ceased their singing to listen. 

“I hear trumpets!” cried the Canoe Boy. “And 
drums!” added the Boy from In the Garden. “And 
soft music like lullabies,” breathed the Dancing 
Maiden, while the Girl with the Gazelles said noth¬ 
ing, but just looked and looked, until the other chil¬ 
dren and all the many guests looked, too. “They are 
the very boys who met us!” she cried. “Only now 
they are singing and playing boys!” 

First came little dancing children, so full of life 
and fun and the joy of living that they were almost 
bubbling over. Trumpeters blew upon their long 
trumpets, puffing out their cheeks with every breath. 
Boys beat in perfect rhythm upon their drums until 

1 From one of Petrarch’s Sonnets. 

182 





CAXTORIA, SINGING GALLERY 
Luca della Robbia 
Cathedral Museum, Florence 


TN the headband of this story you saw the carved pictures of Luca della 
^ Robbia's wonderful Singing Gallery; this is the panel on the left with 
the trumpeters puffing out their cheeks as they blow and the children dancing 
in joy. We can almost hear those loud trumpet blasts, and we can surely see 
the splendid grouping of the figures, and the beauty of line and form. 











MOONLIGHT MOVING PICTURES 


the whole air was filled with sound. But as they 
marched and danced and swung with the rhythmic 
step straight out of the moonlight picture into the 
Shadow Land beyond, there followed tall and lithe¬ 
some maidens, light upon their feet, the folds of their 
long, loose robes swinging with every graceful move¬ 
ment, and playing softly upon harps and lyres as they 
sang. Close upon them were the choristers with their 
open books and throbbing throats and open mouths 
from which were coming a wondrous song. In per¬ 
fect time they were, one beating out the rhythm upon 
his companion's shoulder, and these were the words 
of the song: 

‘‘Praise ye the Lord. Praise God in His 
Sanctuary: praise Him in the firmament 
Of His power. 

Praise Him for His mighty acts: praise Him 
According to His excellent greatness. 

Praise Him with the sound of the trumpet: 

Praise Him with the psaltery and harp. 

Praise Him with the timbrel and dance: 

Praise Him with stringed instruments and organs. 
Praise Him upon the loud cymbals: Praise Him 
Upon the high-sounding cymbals. 

Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord. 

Praise ye the Lord.'’ 




PAN THE PIPER 


“And they’re doing it with the trumpets!” sang the 
Girl with the Gazelles. 

“And the harps!” whispered the Dancing Maiden. 
“And the graceful dancing!” 

“There are the cymbals with their clashing and 
their ringing!” added the Canoe Boy, as the last of 
the music children rushed forward and with a play¬ 
ful smile clashed merrily upon his cymbals. 

“It is a beautiful hymn to the Creator,” reverently 
said the Grand Duke Lorenzo, as all the music- 
makers returned to the moonlight and held their 
places just as they were in the real carved pictures. 

“Even when they are still they look just as if they 
were going to sing,” said the Boy from In the Garden. 

“And dance and play upon their harps,” sang the 
Dancing Maiden. “And make deep sounds upon 
their drums and trumpets,” added the Canoe Boy. 
“And cymbals!” laughed the Girl with the Gazelles. 

While the air was still ringing with music, once 
more the glorious fountains played and once more the 
serving maidens passed golden dishes heaped high 
with mellow fruits. As they ate, one after another 
of the artists from the Time Gone By held up his 
hand for the moonlight pictures, and there appeared 

184 




MOONLIGHT MOVING PICTURES 


a French mother and her babies, the love on the 
mother’s face shining right out in the moonlight, 
while all except the mother and her babies was 
shadowed, warm and brown. Then a French clown 
stood and looked at them, surrounded by other circus 
members, and they just wished he would amuse them 
with his tricks. He looked so very willing, too, but 
just then Duke Lorenzo and Sandro Botticelli shook 
their heads. ‘‘Hours pass," they said. “Just one other 
picture will we show.” 

“I smell spring flowers!" sniffed the Dancing 
Maiden. “And green grass and orange trees!" 

“I see green grass and violets and irises and 
daisies!" exulted the Boy from In the Garden. 

“I hear voices!” trilled the Girl with the Gazelles. 
“And tinkling laughter!" 

“And here they come," rejoiced the Canoe Boy; 
“all dancing over the deep green grass among the 
bright flowers and in and out among the beautiful 
fruit trees." 

Between the tree trunks the softest blue of the 
Italian sky peered out, and against the dark foliage 
the mellow fruits gleamed like golden balls. Round 
and round and in and out the three maidens in their 

185 




PAN THE PIPER 


gold-embroidered robes danced, passing quite near 
to Venus, the Goddess of Love and Beauty, who 



SPRING 
Sandro Botticelli 
Academy, Florence 


Isn’t this a happy grouping of dainty and graceful figures, making a beauti¬ 
ful pattern against the background of tree trunks and dark-green foliage 
brightened by golden fruits? It is surely a “song of the springtime”! 

smiled such a tender smile at the beauties of the 
springtime. 

“It is Spring,” chanted the flower-decked maiden, 
who looked like the very spirit of Spring and seemed 
to belong to the woods. “It is Spring, and the soft 

186 






MOONLIGHT MOVING PICTURES 


breezes are blowing from out of the woods, and the 
flowers are smiling in welcome. Sing and rejoice, 
for it is Spring, when the whole world is young!'’ 

“This picture makes music, too, although there are 
no trumpets nor drums nor harps,” breathed the chil¬ 
dren. “It is all full of graceful and musical lines, 
and the very trees and the flowers are singing.” 

“I see you are having a good time,” spoke the man 
at the left in the picture, “but you don’t seem to 
recognize me.” 

“It’s Mercury, the great messenger, who brought 
us the invitation for to-night,” they cried. “We do 
know you, even if you have a different form!” 

Dimmer grew the brightness of the flowers, and 
fainter the light in the sky, while the deep green took 
on a shade of gray as the figures of Spring danced 
out behind the trees, and as they went Mercury 
quoted: 

“Spring passes, and with her Venus, 

And the winged harbinger of Venus 
Steps on before; close upon the zephyr's footsteps 
Flora, their mother, strewing all the way before them, 
Covers it with rarest colors and odors." 1 

1 From Poliziani’s “Giostra.” 


187 




PAN THE PIPER 


“It is like music, and like poetry, too,” sighed 
the Girl with the Gazelles, as “Springtime” 
slowly faded from view. “It makes me feel glad 
inside.” 

“Then has it served the purpose by bringing a 
message of beauty and of joy to the world,” smiled 
its maker, Sandro Botticelli. “We artists of the 
Days Which are Past wish now to see a picture 
by some living artist from your land that you 
would like to show. Just think very hard which 
one ’twill be, and then you, too, will have the 
power to produce it before our eyes. What shall 
it be?” 

The short brown hair of the Boy from In the 
Garden, the close-cropped head of the one with the 
canoe, the soft curling locks of the Dancing Maiden 
and the longer ones of the Girl with the Gazelles, 
were very close to one another for a while, and their 
attitudes were tense. 

“We have it!” announced the four, with great sat¬ 
isfaction. “We are all agreed.” 

“All of you think of it as you look at the screen of 
moonlight,” suggested Duke Lorenzo, and soon the 
picture will appear.” 


188 





MOTHER AND CHILD 
Man' Cassatt 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 


T 'HIS is the picture the boys and girls who went from our country to 
Versailles called forth upon the screen, a picture painted by one of our 
own women artists. There is no question but that this baby looks real. 



















MOOXLIGHT MOFIXG PICTURES 


“I see her toes,*' giggled the Dancing Maiden, 
“and her knees!” 

“Her mother is there now,” whispered the Boy 
from In the Garden, “and I’m glad, for I know how 
much I should miss not having my mother in the 
picture.” 

“Some one painted it who knows all about chil¬ 
dren, their plump little bodies, their dimples, and 
their eyes which seem to look far ahead into the 
future. What man made this beautiful picture you 
have shown us?” asked one of the artists at the long 
banquet table. 

“H-m-m!” chuckled the Girl with the Gazelles, 
“a woman, named Mary Cassatt, painted this pic¬ 
ture! We have many famous women artists, and 
many of them are mothers and so know all about 
babies and how much a mother loves them.” 

“Our Italian artists knew about mothers and ba¬ 
bies, too,” said the Duke, softly. “The madonnas 
are really Italian mothers and their babies, the little 
bambini whom they saw in the mothers' arms. Let 
the great painter, Botticelli, our toastmaster, show 
one of his.” 

The artist raised his hand and the moonlight screen 

189 




PAN THE PIPER 


changed its shape and its square corners became 
rounded until a perfect circle of light appeared, and 
within it the Holy Mother who looked at the Holy 
Child, the little bambino on her lap, with just the 
same mother love that the American mother had 
shown. Even though the shining crown was being 
placed upon her head by the gladsome angels, she 
was just a human mother, after all. 

“Their backs are curved to fit the circle and it’s 
very beautiful,” the children cried; “all mothers and 
all babies are!” 

“Across the sky the first faint pink of the morning 
is coming,” warned Sandro Botticelli. “Our festival 
night is drawing to a close. Children from Across 
the Seas, choose now the picture which has pleased 
you most, and the maker of it shall take you to his 
land before the sun’s rays are really pouring down 
upon the Earth. One moment you shall have to 
speak together of the moonlight picture which has 
pleased the greatest number. We aw r ait your 
pleasure.” 

Eagerly the children talked among themselves, 
then stepped forward the Boy with the Canoe. 

“We have liked all your moonlight pictures, Sir 

190 





MADONNA OF THE MAGNIFICAT 
Sandro Botticelli 
Cffizi Caller)', Florence 


TT/'ITHIX this beautiful circular frame of fruit and flowers sits a 
' ' Holy Mother and a Holy Child; yet, after all, we are looking at i 
real mother and a very real child! I think you will like the way the 
backs of the figures are bent to fit into the curve of the circular space they 
have to fill and the soft little landscape in the background. 









MOONLIGHT MOVING PICTURES 


Artists, and it's hard to say which one has pleased us 
most. At first we felt that we must choose Mr. Bot¬ 
ticelli’s ‘Springtime,’ with the dainty flowers and 
the golden fruit upon the trees and the dancing 
ladies, but then we thought of the ‘Singing Boys’ 
and of how their throats swelled when they sang, and 
of how sweet a song it was.” 

“And of the puffed cheeks of the trumpeters,” 
trilled the Boy from In the Garden, “and the clash 
of the cymbals, the dancing, the singing of the 
glorious hymn of praise!” 

“So we decided,” announced the Dancing Maiden, 
“that although we liked all the pictures, we liked the 
‘Singing Boys' the very best.” 

“Luca della Robbia!” called the Duke, turning to 
a smiling dark-eyed man. “You are the chosen one, 
so take these children to your city, the city where you 
worked. Hasten, for the stars have disappeared.” 

“It was wonderful!” called the children from their 
swift airship, with Mercury at the wheel. Then, 
as all the artists waved and smiled and bowed, 
they added, “Please ask us back again some other 
night.” 

So very swiftly did they flv that they had not even 





PAN THE PIPER 


had time to speak before they saw far down below 
them the many brown-red roofs of a city tucked in 
among the hills, and towering far above the other 
roof tops the great cathedral and the high bell tower 
designed by Giotto. As they flew nearer, the sun 
brightened the delicately curved windows and 
brought out the gray and the green and the soft 
pastel rose, with the golden-brown tone over it all, 
the mellowness of the many years which had passed 
it over. Quickly to the right they turned and curved 
swiftly down in front of a building which had an 
arched portico in front. 

“You have honored me in choosing my carved 
pictures of the ‘Singing Boys,’ ’’ said Luca della 
Robbia, “so I thought you might like to see the 
little carved figures on this hospital of the children. 
These terra-cotta babies in the medallions between 
the arches are not by me, but by one whom I taught, 
Andrea della Robbia.” 

“The darlings!” exclaimed the Dancing Maiden, 
“all of them looking right out of the deep-blue back¬ 
ground just as if it were the sky!” 

“There’s a merry one!” declared the Girl with the 
Gazelles, “and a sad one and a thoughtful one! But 

192 




MOONLIGHT MOVING PICTURES 


each looks as if it wanted to be taken up and cuddled 
like the other babies we saw to-night.” 

“Just peer inside,” suggested the artist, and as the 



THE ANNUNCIATION 

Andrea della Robbia 

Hospital of the Innocents, Florence 


This is just the sort of a carved picture, with its soft blue and green coloring. 
to belong to the out-of-doors, in the beautiful courtyard where it can be found 
to-day. It is all so delicately and gracefully carved, and the border of little 
heads makes it all the more delightful. 

children looked within they saw a most beautiful 
courtyard with trees and flowers, and in a lunette 
high upon the wall—and just seeming to belong to 
the out-of-doors—the most wonderful carved picture 

193 












PAN THE PIPER 


of the angel bringing to the Madonna the message of 
the coming of the Holy Child. Between them, 
against the soft blue background, was such a grace¬ 
ful and beautiful lily in a little vase. 

“It makes me want to cry!” said the Boy from In 
the Garden. “Did you make it, O Luca della 
Robbia?” 

“It is the one of my works I enjoyed the most, 
except, perhaps, the ‘Singing Boys,’ ” answered the 
artist, “but it should not make you weep, but be 
glad!” 

The children never could remember just what hap¬ 
pened next, but almost before they knew it they were 
flying back across the sea, back to their own places 
in America. Beneath them the people on the Earth 
were awakening. 

“The day is just stirring,” whispered Mercury, as 
he helped them settle into their places. “We are 
back in time. Some other night, no doubt, I shall 
again be your messenger!” 


194 




IN THE 

SPARKLING WATERS 
OF 

A MOORISH FOUNTAIN 







In the Sparkling Waters of 
a Moorish Fountain 


INTRODUCTION 

/ N Spain everyone loves flowers and even the 
humblest houses have their flowers and plants. 
There are marvelous gardens with fountains and 
cedars and cypresses. JFhen you look at pictures 
painted by the modern Spanish artists you will see 
from them how fond the Spanish people are of bright 
colors and brilliant sunshine. They are light-hearted 
and happy and have many festival days when they 
dance out-of-doors and sing to the music of their gay 
tambourines and guitars. Sometimes they dress in 
fancy costumes and go about making merry—rich 
and poor alike. At night the watchmen shout out 
the hours, “Two o'clock, and all is serene!” They 
wear cloaks and pointed hoods; they carry javelins 
and daggers, and some of them carry keys to all the 

197 


INTRODUCTION 


houses in the streets they pass, a very convenient 
custom for him who forgets or loses his key! 

The watchman has just sung, “Ten o'clock, and 
all is serene!” and has walked away down the de¬ 
serted street, carrying his lighted lantern. All is 
silent, save for now and then the sound of far-away 
merry voices or of distant music, but we are all ready 
for some sort of an adventure, for the soft air and 
the faint tinkling of the tambourines make us feel 
that something is about to happen! 


198 





In the Sparkling Waters of 
a Moorish Fountain 


ASTE thee, Jacinta!” cried 
ten-vear-old Pedro, tugging 
at the hand of his smaller 
sister, Jacinta, as they wea¬ 
rily climbed up the Alham¬ 
bra Hill in Granada. 
“Thou didst tell me that old 
Castro told thee that at one 
hour before the midnight is 
called, the Enchanted Soldier appears. Think, 
Jacinta, Castro told me that once every hundred 
years, on the festival of St. John, the soldier can 
speak; and to-night is the festival and old Castro 
says that from what his old father used to tell him, 

199 







































PAN THE PIPER 


just one hundred years have passed since he last 
broke his magic spell!” 

“But, Pedro mio,” replied a little voice by his 
side, “the good mother will be home before us and 
will be filled with fear when she cannot find us. Dost 
thou not think-?” 

“Hush thee, Jacinta!” answered Pedro, impa¬ 
tiently, with a flash of his black eyes. “Have we not 
planned for this for days and months? Castro will 
let her know that we are safe.” 

So on they walked, Pedro full of eagerness and 
pushing hastily ahead, a sturdy boy in his dark-green 
suit and bright-red sash; but Jacinta rather dragged 
her feet, and even her bright scarf drooped deject¬ 
edly at one end. 

Trees clustered on either side, and every now and 
then, when the breezes stirred the leaves to a sighing 
and a whispering and the shadows, queer in shape, 
bobbed across their path, a little more closely would 
the small wanderers draw together. 

“I see some towers ahead!” cried Pedro, as 
the walls and towers of the Alhambra, the Red 
Palace, rose before them against the star-illu¬ 
mined sky. “And yonder is the Gate of Judg- 

200 






WATERS OF A MOORISH FOUNTAIN 


ment, shaped just like the horseshoe father gave me, 
sister!” 

“We are really here, Pedro!” exclaimed the now 
excited Jacinta, as at last they went through the gate¬ 
way. “Oh, Pedro, just look!" Pedro turned and 
looked with wide eyes at the city of Granada below, 
gleaming white with dancing lights, against the 
dark sky. But soon they hurried on, for it was 
getting perilously near the eleventh hour and they 
must reach the Tower of the Infantas before that 
time. 

“Here we are within the palace," said Jacinta as 
they went through a little gateway into the Court of 
the Myrtles. "Oh, look at the little lake!" and she 
pointed to a tiny lake in the center encircled with 
myrtles, orange and lemon trees, and then ran 
quickly into one of the little galleries with its white 
marble columns, its arches crowned with arabesques 
in deep purple, shadowy yellow, and bright gold, and 
overhead a cupola showing little stars of gold painted 
upon a blue ground. 

“Come!" whispered Pedro, as he caught his sister 
by the hand and drew her along through the arches 
and halls with their beautiful carved patterns so deli- 


201 




PAN THE PIPER 


cately done that it looked like lace or fairy work, and 
seemed to form on the marble pavements laces of 
moonbeams. Straight through the Court of the 
Lions they went, their footsteps, light as they were, 
sending echoes through the deserted chambers open¬ 
ing from it, and the splash of the water from the 
fountain and the trickle of the water from the mouths 
of the twelve lions holding up the alabaster basins 
sounding very queer and mysterious. Pedro and 
Jacinta drew nearer together as they stole along with 
starry eyes and fast-beating hearts, glancing this way 
and that and expecting almost any minute to be 
stopped by a dusky Moor who had lived there in the 
days of the kings of the Alhambra. With many a 
backward glance they tiptoed across the hall where 
Castro had told them that thirty-six chiefs had been 
slain by the order of Boabdil, the last of the Moorish 
kings, straight through the great hall with its roof 
in the shape of a star and its many windows show¬ 
ing peeps of the sky beyond into the Hall of 
the Two Sisters, where they found the beautiful 
white, blue, and gold vase of which Castro had 
told them. “Just think, once it was filled with 
gold!” murmured Pedro, eagerly. “Castro said 


202 





VIEW OF THE INTERIOR OF THE GEXERALIFE 

Summer Residence of the Moorish Princes at Granada 


QN the title-page of this story you saw the arches with their carved pat¬ 
terns, looking—as some one has said—like needlework upon stone,’ 1 
or like lacework. Here you see again the delicate patterns above the arches. 
Just imagine how like a fairy palace it must have looked to Tedro and 
Jacinta when they saw riot only the beautiful patterns, but the gleam of 
azure and gold and white, and the sparkle of the water sent high into the air 
by the fountain, spraying the green garden trees and plants. 













WATERS OF A MOORISH FOUNTAIN 


the treasure was found in one of the cham¬ 
bers underneath the palace! I wish we could 
find some!” 

“Come, Pedro,” urged Jacinta, “hasten thy foot¬ 
steps else we shall be too late. Look thou not at the 
treasures here, but straight ahead!” 

So on they stole through galleries and courts all 
rich with fretwork and tile borders of blue and gold, 
showing dim in the shadows but often gleaming in 
the moonlight; windows whose tracery was pat¬ 
terned against the evening blue sky beyond, and ceil¬ 
ings from which hung thousands of ornaments look¬ 
ing like clusters of shining icicles. At last, ever 
following Castro’s directions, through a long pas¬ 
sage in the encircling wall, they reached the Tower 
of the Infantas. 

“It is an enchanted palace!” whispered Jacinta, 
with her lips close to Pedro’s ear. “See all the little 
fairy rooms opening out of this high hall! Oh, 
Pedro! Look how high the ceiling is, and it is all 
covered with pretty patterns and sparkles like gold 
in the moonlight!” 

“Sh-h!” whispered Pedro. “Eleven o’clock, and 
all is serene!” came faintly to them from the city far 

203 




PAN THE PIPER 


down below the hill. “Come, let us sit by the edge of 
this fountain.” 

Quickly they seated themselves near the alabaster 
fountain, so close they could feel the spray from the 
murmuring water. Castro had said to do this. 

They waited one, two, three minutes, maybe more, 
wondering dreamily how long it would be before the 
Enchanted Soldier should appear. Castro had said 
he surely would come. 

Hark! It might be the loosening of a stone or bit 
of ornament, but it sounded for all the world like the 
clanking of armor! And straightway there appeared 
before them the Enchanted Soldier clad in burnished 
armor. On his breast he wore a steel corselet studded 
with gold nails, and on his head a steel casque richly 
engraved. 

“A hundred years is a long time to sleep, and would 
that the festival of St. John came more often and 
each year was a single day! Once more do I wish 
that I were living here in the palace when Their 
Majesties Ferdinand and Isabella held the throne. 
It is a tiresome task to guard the treasures here. By 
the blessed St. John himself, what have we here?” 

“The good Castro of the village, so old that he can 

204 




WATERS OF A MOORISH F0UXTA1X 


remember tales of many years ago, did tell us that 
on St. John’s Eve each hundredth year thou wouldst 
appear here by this very fountain in the tower where 
thou wert held prisoner and cast under a spell by 
a Moorish priest." Pedro spoke boldly, though he 
was dismayed at the sternness of the ancient sol¬ 
dier in his old armor and carrying his long lance. 
“We would hear about the olden time, if it 
please thee," he added, relying upon Castro’s 
statement that the Enchanted Soldier would 
unfold the stories of the past each hundredth 
year on St. John's Eve. 

“Thus let it be!" the soldier cried, and held high 
his lance. “Look ye in the sparkling water of the 
fountain and ye will see the people I call forth in 
story. 

“Behold, first, King Boabdil, whom my master and 
his courageous queen forced to surrender this palace 
at Granada!" 

“Look, Pedro!" cried Jacinta, “there in the foun¬ 
tain !” The water tossed this way and that and mur¬ 
mured and sighed until from its very center arose a 
golden throne upon which was seated the Moorish 
King Boabdil clad in long robes sparkling with 

205 




PAN THE PIPER 


jewels, while on each side stood a soldier in burnished 
armor, grasping a drawn sword. 

“Watch the fountain closely, little friends, and you 
will see the surrender of the Keys of Granada in 
1492, eight hundred years after the Moors had con¬ 
quered Spain. Boabdil and his people were starving, 
for the Spanish king, the year before, had caused his 
army to destroy the harvest on the plain around and 
then waited near the city. Hunger came with all its 
miseries, and all the people suffered and little chil¬ 
dren died. What could they do but yield to Spain? 
We were too strong for them. Watch well the 
fountain. Didst thou speak, my boy?” 

“I bade Jacinta see the pictures in the fountain,” 
answered Pedro. “There are many people moving 
to and fro.” 

“They are the people of the doomed city,” said the 
soldier, “crying out their grief and their hunger. 
Boabdil, their king, now comes from his palace, this 
very Alhambra, followed by his nobles. ‘Allah has 
grievously visited my sins upon my head,’ he cries. 
‘For your sake, my people, I have now made this 
treaty, to protect you from the sword, your little ones 
from famine . . . and to secure you in the enjoy- 

206 





ENTRANCE TO THE COURT OF THE LIONS OF THE 
ALHAMBRA PALACE, GRANADA 


TN and out among these tall and slender columns of white marble flitted 
‘Pedro and Jacinta, close to the alabaster basin into which fell the moon¬ 
light-bright drops of water from the fountain. I suppose they peered long 
at the strange lions from which the court received its name. Blue and red 
and golden-yellow they saw, shining in the moonlight; and gleaming like 
precious stones, the carved patterns hanging like great icicles from the 
ceiling ! 











WATERS OF A MOORISH FOUNTAIN 


ment of your properties, your liberties, your laws, 
and your religion, under a sovereign of happier 
destinies than the ill-starred Boabdil.’ ” 

“The people are shouting and weeping!” cried 
Pedro and Jacinta together; “and they stretch out 
their arms toward the king!” 

“Give heed closely,” answered the Enchanted Sol¬ 
dier, “and the words will come, faint though they 
may be, ‘Long live Boabdil the Unfortunate!’ Then 
sent Boabdil a message to the Spanish King Ferdi¬ 
nand that thev would surrender on the second dav of 

y * 

January instead of the sixth, because of famine. 
There came the darkening of the night, the last night 
the Moors would rule within the walls of their great 
palace, the Alhambra. Hear their cries of sorrow 
as they pack their treasures, preparing to set forth. 
Before the rising sun brightened the eastern sky, 
Boabdil, his family and his followers, left the city 
that they might not be seen in their sorrow by the 
people. Mark the proud and unbending mother of 
Boabdil as, erect upon her horse, she goes through 
the sleeping streets. Hear the signal guns from the 
summit of the Alhambra as the Christian army of 
Ferdinand begins its march across the plain, headed 

207 




PAN THE PIPER 


by the king and queen. Look well and see the silver 
cross gleaming on the great watch-tower and hear 
the shouts ‘For King Ferdinand and Queen 
Isabella!’ ” 

“Flere comes Boabdil!” cried Pedro, excitedly in¬ 
terrupting the soldier as he saw the king of the 
Moors, robed in a dark mantle, crowned, and hold¬ 
ing in his hand two keys, advance on horseback, 
followed by his court. 

“Boabdil holds up the keys of the city in sadness,” 
continued the soldier. “Mark well his words: ‘These 
keys are the last relics of the Arabian empire in 
Spain: thine, O King, are our trophies, our kingdom, 
and our person. Such is the will of God! Receive 
them with the clemency thou hast promised, and 
which we look for at thy hands.’ 1 See how sorrow¬ 
ful are his eyes as he rides to where Queen Isabella 
awaits on horseback, erect as becomes a queen.” 

“There is a little boy in the fountain!” exclaimed 
Jacinta softly, but the soldier heard and answered, 
“The little son of Boabdil held as hostage.” Then 
softly came to them from within the sparkling waters 
the words of the conquered Moorish king: “My 

1 Abarca, Anales de Aragon, reg. 30, cap. 3. 

208 




WATERS OF A MOORISH FOUNTAIN 


little son! In spite of our misfortunes, Allah is great, 
for thou art spared me!” 

“See!" cried the soldier. “The eyes of Isabella 
are wet as she watches the humbled king with his 
little son move slowly to join his weeping court. 
There they go, Pedro and Jacinta, far away from 
their beloved city with its vermilion towers shining 
in the brightness of the coming day. ‘Alas! 1 they 
cry as they gaze for the last time upon their pride, 
the Alhambra; ‘never before has it looked so lovely 
in our eyes!’ ” 

“There is no picture in the fountain now, O 
Soldier,” cried Pedro as the last of the Moors faded 
from their sight, “and Jacinta weeps. Hast thou 
not another picture before we go? Thou wilt not 
come for another hundred years, old Castro says, 
and we shall be with the saints.” 

“Weep not, little Jacinta,” said the ancient sol¬ 
dier, tenderly. “Behold! I will show thee a prin¬ 
cess of the Alhambra! She dwelt in ages past with 
her two sisters in this very tower, where they were 
kept by their royal father, guarded from the wiles 
of men. For three Christian cavaliers they had seen, 
and their hearts had gone out to them in love. Two 

209 




PAN THE PIPER 


of the sisters fled away with their lovers, but the 
third, Zorahayda, lacked the courage when the night 
arrived for fleeing, for she feared her father’s wrath. 
Watch well the gleaming waters of the fountain as 
they fall within the alabaster basin. Make no noise!” 

“Twelve o’clock, and all is serene!” heard Pedro 
and Jacinta faintly from the village, and softly from 
the fountain’s depth, as it sent its “clouds of pearls” 
into the air, there arose a maiden clad in Moorish 
robes and bright with many jewels. In one hand 
she held an opened rose, in the other a silver lute. 

“Full many a year since I have spoken,” said the 
maiden. “Is it thou who hast called me forth, En¬ 
chanted Soldier? Welcome, Pedro and Jacinta— 
thou seest I know thy names—welcome to the Al¬ 
hambra. Only those who are able to believe can see 
the pictures in the sparkling fountain, called forth 
by the Enchanted Soldier or by some other from 
the bygone days when the Moors dwelt within these 
halls in all their splendor. Wouldst thou hear the 
music of my silver lute? I am a Moorish princess, 
Zorahayda, who lacked the will to leave this ancient 
tower with my knight. Hear thou my song!” 

Thereupon there mingled with the murmuring of 

210 






SURRENDER OF THE KEYS OF GRANADA TO 
FERDINAND AND ISABELLA, BY KING BOABDIL 
Francisco Pradilla 
The Senate, Madrid 


DOABDIL, the last AAIoorish King of Granada, sadly holds out to King 
Ferdinand and Queen Isabella the keys of the fortress. In the distance, 
on the hill, gleam the towers of the city and the palace he loved so well. 
Around the King and Queen are gathered their court and guard. It was 
said that the Enchanted Soldier was a member of this guard until he was 
taken prisoner by the oAMoors and kept a captive in one of the towers of the 
great e/tlhambra Talace. 

The artist who painted this picture was very much interested in the story 
he had to tell. 










WATERS OF A MOORISH FOUNTAIN 


the glistening fountain the melting tones of the 
silver lute, more clear, more sweet, more wonderful 
than any music the children had ever heard before, 
even in the church they attended every Sunday. It 
sang of birds and flowers and moonbeams with 
fairies dancing, of the marvelous halls of the palace 
where once the Moorish kings held sway and jewels 
glittered, armor flashed, and fountains played, and 
where voices were raised in song. It sang of gold 
and silver and precious woods, of marble and of 
gleaming stone; and it sang plaintively of the story 
of the princesses three confined in that very room, 
and of all the glories of the Alhambra and its 
builders, the Moors. 

It seemed to Pedro and Jacinta that they were liv¬ 
ing in the ages past, a little Moorish prince and prin¬ 
cess, in the great Alhambra palace in its splendor. 
Fainter and fainter sounded the silver lute, and with 
the Moorish princess farther and farther away in 
years they went into the past of the palace of the 
early kings. 

“The hour is passed, my children,” came the En¬ 
chanted Soldier’s voice at last, “and for another 
hundred years I cannot speak. Do not forget me, 

211 




PAN THE PIPER 


and remember to tell thy children of me, so that 
when a century hence St. John’s Day comes, others, 
too, may visit me and hear stories of our Spanish 
lords and of the Moors in Spain. Fare thee well!” 

“Enchanted Soldier, tell us more!” cried Pedro, 
running toward him with outstretched arms, with 
Jacinta close behind. But instead of the arms of the 
Enchanted Soldier, who had once more gone beneath 
his spell for another hundred years, Pedro and Ja¬ 
cinta felt around them the arms of mother Tia, whose 
eyes glistened in the moonlight and whose voice 
trembled as she said: “My blessed babies! Old Cas¬ 
tro told me he had told thee tales to-day of our glori¬ 
ous Alhambra and I knew I should find thee here. 
St. John has protected thee on this his festival day!” 


212 




CHINA, 

THE LAND OF 
MANY DRAGONS 







China, the 

Land of Many Dragons 


INTRODUCTION 


/ F we had the power to be boys and girls first in 
one land and then another, 1 rather think we 
should come back to our own country, content to be 
American boys and girls. But it would be good fun 
to try different countries all the same, 'wouldn’t itf 
Supposing this time we try China, just as in the other 
stories we have gone to other far-away countries — 
India, Persia, France, Italy, England, and sometimes 
different parts of our own country. 

One of the most fascinating powers we have in 
this world, where we are able to do so many wonder¬ 
ful things, is just to make a wish deep down enough, 
think hard and sure enough! Our Imagination—a 
part of ourselves and as wonderful, every bit, as Elec¬ 
tricity—gets to working very quickly and we are for 


215 



INTRODUCTION 


the time just what we leant to be and just where we 
want to be! 

One day in summer I was sitting on the sun- 
warmed sand close down by the rippling, murmur¬ 
ing sea. Swiftly there circled close down to the 
water some great white gulls; so easily they flew 
along, so swiftly, and with such a graceful, dipping 
motion, now high up toward the lighter blue of the 
great curved sky, and now suddenly dipping down 
until they almost touched the deeper blue sea. At 
once I thought, “How fine it would be to jump upon 
a sea gulls back and go flying far out toward where 
the curve of the sky meets the ever-restless surface of 
the sea. How glorious it would be to look down 
from the back of my sea gull—far more perfect in its 
knowledge of flying than any airship will ever be — 
and watch the many colors in the water; the long 
strips of soft yellow-gray-green that make one think 
of the mosses clinging to the rocks in the great pine 
woods, followed by deep purple-blue and then by a 
wonderful blue-green or an emerald green broken 
here and there by the pure white of the breaking 
waves. 

As 1 pretended this flight over the ever-changing 

216 





INTRODUCTION 


sea on the sea gull's back, 1 suddenly decided to do 
something which might require a little longer and 
deeper wishing, but which could be done by that 
powerful and glorious part of us which could imag¬ 
ine us there. So I decided that I would go to China 
on the back of the white crane or of a phoenix — 
because, of course, these birds would know much 
more about China than would an American sea gull 
—and visit some of the Chinese boys and girls of 
To-day and hear some of the CJunese tales of Yester¬ 
day. 1 might even meet, on my journey, some of the 
marry dragons of that far-away Eastern land, for you 
know CIrina is the Land of Many Dragons—of the 
sea, of the sky, and of the earth. 

How many are ready to go to-day, on white cranes 
and phoenixes, over the selfsame journey that 1 took 
before, seeing the strange sights and having the queer 
adventuresf All aboard, then; the birds are ready. 
JTe take our places, wish hard, the birds spread their 
wings, and away we go! There are so many of us 
that we'll follow the fortunes of just two — say, 
JFilliam and Eleanor! 


217 








China, the 

Land of Many Dragons 


WONDER 
where we’re go¬ 
ing first!” called 
Eleanor to Will¬ 
iam as they flew 
side by side— 
one on the back 
of a pure-white 
Crane and the 
other seated securely upon the back of a great Phoenix 
with powerful wings and a gorgeous, streaming tail. 
She had to “cup” her hands to her mouth as she talked, 
so swiftly were they flying through the air, and they 
could hear not only the flutter of the strong wings 

218 




CHINA , THE LAND OF MANY DRAGONS 


and the rush of the air, but the pounding of the 
waves below, as they went skimming across the 
ocean to far-away China, the “Land of Many 
Dragons.” 

“To see some Chinese boys and girls!” shouted 
William, so loudly that the Phoenix and Crane could 
not help but hear, just as he had intended they 
should! 

“First we shall-” began the Crane in his gen¬ 

tle voice, but the elegant and superior Phoenix inter¬ 
rupted him. “You will find out in due time,” he 
remarked, and made a swift, upward curve, fol¬ 
lowed at once by the Crane, so that William and 
Eleanor had to put their arms around the necks of 
their hastening birds, else they would have fallen 
off. High up they flew close to the clouds, so high 
that the roar of the sea could no longer be heard, so 
high that the cities and towns they passed looked 
like the tiny ones that they had often set up just for 
fun. On and on they flew without stopping, so 
swiftly that they had no breath to talk, until they 
saw in the distance a land where they could make 
out, from their great height, queer-shaped buildings 
several stories high with the roof of each story 

219 





PAN THE PIPER 


smaller than the one below and the edges of each 
turned up. 

“They are pagodas!” cried William, for they were 
going so slowly now that it was easy to talk. “And 
we are re-al-ly in China!” 

Gracefully the Phoenix and the White Crane 
nodded their heads. “First we shall visit a Chinese 
home,” announced the Phoenix, formally. “I trust 
that American children will not suffer by compar¬ 
ison with the Chinese in manners!” 

Eleanor and William started to make an indignant 
reply, but the birds dipped down so suddenly that 
they found themselves right in front of a Chinese 
house before they had time to speak. 

“They are expecting you,” reassured the White 
Crane, “and the Honorable and August Phoenix 
and I will rest for a while not far from here 
and return in time to take you upon your next 
adventure.” 

Hand in hand William and Eleanor rather doubt¬ 
fully walked toward the little house with its tiled 
roof, the ridges ornamented with flat tiles placed on 
end, and its brick walls plastered outside. Through 
the open court, paved with square stones, they went, 


220 




CHINA , THE LAND OF MANY DRAGONS 


on into the inner court, where they saw coming to 
meet them from one of the rooms at the side a queer 
little Chinese boy and girl. The boy wore wide, 
long trousers—not quilted, because it was not 
winter time—and a loose jacket. The little girl 
was so small and so plump that she looked like 
a soft little bundle of clothes with two narrow 
black eyes peeping out from her chubby face. 
As she drew nearer they could make out little 
blue trousers beneath her loose blue jacket, and 
on her head was a cap looking very much like a 
skull cap! 

“Why—whv—we're dressed that wav, too!" cried 
Eleanor, excitedly, and behold! they found them¬ 
selves looking just about like their little host and 
hostess, and better still, they could understand what 
thev were saving! They discovered that the name 
of the Chinese boy meant “Fragrant Palace" and 
that of the little girl “Charming Flower,” and in a 
few moments they were talking as if they all 
belonged to the same country. 

“We go now to school,” announced “Fragrant 
Palace.” 

“Isn't it a queer place?" whispered Eleanor as 


221 








PAN THE PIPER 


they walked through the streets of Shanghai. Such 
crowds there were in the city streets: now a man- 



WELCOME TO THE DEW 
Chinese painting, Sung Dynasty, A.D. 1000 
Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 

The Chinese artists cared not so much for giving a faithful, exact view of what 
they saw before them , as for making its spirit felt. They cared a great deal 
for certain of the Secrets of Beauty, such as space filling, line, and the beauty 
of light and dark. 

darin in his brocade and silken robes passed, then a 
palanquin carried by many bearers, peasants with 
wheelbarrows loaded with market produce, and 
water-carriers slouching along, carrying their bur- 


222 







CHINA , THE LAND OF MANY DRAGONS 


dens from the ends of long poles. When the chil¬ 
dren reached the school, they found it queerer than 
anything they had yet seen in China. All the chil- 
dren—and Eleanor, to her dismay, found herself the 
only girl there—bowed low to the teacher, who in 
return bowed low to them. It was hard at first to 
sit with any comfort on one’s heels, but soon 
William was shouting out his lessons with the rest 
of them, and Eleanor was being taught how to read 
a Chinese book beginning with the last page first, 
reading down the page instead of across, and from 
right to left! She had just started in trying to copy 
some of the queer Chinese picture-writing and was 
haying rather hard work to manage her brush, 
wishing deep within herself that she was once more 
flying on the White Crane’s back, when she all 
at once felt the sweep of wind which she had 
learned to loee on her long journey, and there 
she was on the Crane’s back, flying along 
through the air! She turned her head, and there 
on the back of the Proud and Arrogant Phoenix 
sat William! 

“You wished for us at the same time!” chuckled 
the White Crane, “and now as we fly along listen 

223 






PAN THE PIPER 


well with both ears, Most August Cherry Blossoms, 
and in the music of the wind hear the story of the 
great painter Sesshiu, who managed a brush with 
all the skill which the little Cherry Blossom was 
wishing for, as I saw her trying to use it when I 
peered into the busy schoolroom.” 

With wide-open ears they listened, and borne to 
them on the rushing wind, clear and distinct, came 
the words, while before their eyes vividly appeared 
the pictures of what they heard. 

“In the fair Land of the Rising Sun, Japan, the 
land which learned so much in early times from 
China, there lived in the village of Osaka a boy 
by the name of Sesshiu. Many years ago it was, be¬ 
fore the art of printing was discovered in Europe, 
but a thousand years later than its first use in 
China. 

“ ‘He shall be brought up as a priest,’ his August 
Parents decided, so he was sent away to a monastery 
to be trained. He learned quickly enough what the 
priests taught him, but his mind was often far away 
and he was always begging for paper and brush 
that he might draw pictures of the hills and the 
mountains, especially the celestial mountain of the 

224 




CHINA , THE LAND OF MANY DRAGONS 


Japanese, the venerable Fujiyama. Sometimes he 
would spend hours in drawing a flower or a branch 
of bamboo, and then again he would picture the 
animals and birds that he saw, and one day he even 
drew some on the margins of the sacred books! 
‘Thou shalt be punished for this!' sternly decided a 
priest of the temple, and tied him fast to a pillar, 
making a knot of the rope secure so that he could 
not get away. All the morning was he forced to 
stay there when he longed to be out in the temple 
garden, where he was often sent to study the lessons 
the priests set him and where he could always 
find something with which to draw, even if he 
had to use a twig for a brush and the earth for 
paper! 

“ ‘I can never learn to be a priest!’ mourned the 
boy, as he stood fast tied to the pillar, tugging now 
and then at the hindering rope. ‘Why did my Au¬ 
gust Parents send me here? Could they not see that 
I have the soul of an artist that guides my humble 
fingers whether I will or no?’ 

“Then, wearied by his long standing, tied fast to 
the pillar, and sorrowful that he was losing so many 
precious hours, Sesshiu wept, but as the big tears 

225 




PAN THE PIPER 


fell, of a sudden he took his toe for a brush and with 
tears for ink and the floor of the temple for paper, 
drew rats so much like real ones that as each was 
finished, even to the last curve of the tail, it was filled 
with life and went scampering out over the floor, 
coming swiftly back to gnaw the rope that bound 
him! 

“Just as Sesshiu was stretching his cramped arms, 
there could be heard down the corridor the approach¬ 
ing footsteps of a priest. ‘Behold, Celestial One, 
what my rats, drawn by the tears I shed at my cap¬ 
tivity, have done!’ cried the delighted boy to the 
amazed priest. That night there was a meeting of 
the priests of the temple, who decided that Sesshiu 
must no longer be kept, but helped in the work which 
filled his mind and heart. 

“After Sesshiu had studied long in his own land, 
learning just how to turn his brush so as to get a 
vigorous stroke or the most delicate line, and look¬ 
ing long at that which he wished to paint before he 
began, that he might never change a line, he visited 
China, our glorious Land of the Many Dragons. The 
people of our Celestial China graciously acknowl¬ 
edged that Sesshiu had much to teach rather than 

226 




CHINA , THE LAND OF MANY DRAGONS 

learn, and the Emperor, the Son of Heaven, sent for 
him to appear at his court in Peking. 

“ ‘Thy divine gift, O son of Japan, has found 



MAKIMOXO 
About a.d. 1050 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 

The Chinese children were really learning to be artists when they made their 
queer picture-writing, for they used brushes instead of pencils or pens. So 
they became very skillful in the handling of the brushes and, like Sesshiu, they 
knexv so well how to suggest landscapes full of space, the stillness of the 
woods, the beauty of a flowering branch and singing bird. They could make 
very firm black lines to suggest a rocky landscape, or very delicate strokes 
such as you see in this beautiful picture. You will know by looking at it 
how dearly the Chinese loved nature. 

favor in our sight,’ announced the Emperor before 
the audience there assembled. Learned scholars 
were there and high officials, all eager to see what 
the famed Japanese artist could do. ‘Thou shalt 
decorate the walls of my Imperial Palace, Honored 
One, and thou hast my august permission even to 
paint the sacred mountain of thy land, a privi¬ 
lege never given before; furthermore, mortal fa- 

227 







PAN THE PIPER 


vored of the gods, the artists of my land shall come 
to thee for instruction, for marvelous teachers 
thou must have had. Disclose to us their august 
names.’ 

“Humbly the artist, Sesshiu, bowed his gratitude 
before the Emperor. Three times he bowed until the 
sleeves of the mandarin coat he wore touched the 
palace floor. ‘The name of my one august teacher, 
O Son of Heaven, is Nature; I have learned from 
the woods, the hills, the mountains, and the streams. 
As a boy I would watch for hours the illustrious 
light of the moon; study the soft and delicate petals 
of the flowers, the bamboo bent in the wind, the sun¬ 
light and the shadows on the beloved sacred moun¬ 
tain of our land, the birds fluttering under the blue 
of the sky, and the beauty of it all taught me how to 
use my brush, O most August Emperor of this land 
whose artists first taught ours. In return for thy 
most kind and gracious hospitality, permit me to 
produce before this audience a picture of thy em¬ 
blem, O honored Son of Heaven, the Imperial five- 
clawed Dragon!” 

“Thereupon, before the eyes of the astonished 
court, Sesshiu took a broom, dipped it in a bucket 

22 8 





LANDSCAPE WITH PAGODA PALACE 
IN THE FOREGROUND 
Chinese Painting, Yuan Dynasty, XIV Century 
Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 

TN this picture you can see how little the Chinese artist cared about some 
of the problems which the Western artists solved, such as distance arid 
form. He knew, however, just how much to put in his picture and just how 
much to leave out, understanding the beauty of 'empty spaces. ” 

eA 'o doubt Eleanor and William looked from the backs of the Crane and 
the Ehccnix upon a Chinese landscape very much like this. 










CHINA, THE LAND OF MANY DRAGONS 


of ink, and forthwith drew upon the huge sheet of 
paper on the floor an immense Dragon with its five 
claws holding the sacred jewel. So full of life it 
was, seeming almost to breathe fire, that it called 
forth a burst of applause from the Emperor of 
China himself! 

“ ‘Behold! It may come to life as did the rats the 
honorable Sesshiu drew upon the temple floor,’ 
cried those of the court who had heard that story, 
almost fearful of the huge monster, so real was it to 
behold!” 

The wind music still kept on, but the words and 
the pictures it called forth were no longer there. 
“Little Plum Blossoms,” murmured the White 
Crane, gently, after a whispered talk with the 
Phoenix, who merely nodded his stately head, “would 
you hear of the making of the glorious porcelain 
which you have seen in your own land, one of the 
other arts of our honored country?” 

“Oh, please do make the wind talk to us again!” 
begged Eleanor, as she nestled more comfortably 
among the soft white feathers on the Crane’s back. 
“We are wishing it very hard!” begged William, 
who sat more sedately upon the brilliant Phoenix. 

229 




PAN THE PIPER 


On and on they flew, now up close to the twin¬ 
kling, blinking stars, and then—when daylight came 
—down nearer to the earth, so close sometimes that 
they could hear the many strange noises in the 
Chinese cities. At last they heard beneath them 
once again the roaring of the sea and, as they glided 
on, through the rushing of the wind the words 
came. 

“ ‘Oh, Spirit of Fire that glows with such bright 
radiance within the red-hot furnaces, I pray thee 
that the vases which shall come forth from thy head 
may have all the grace of form and line, and all the 
gracious harmony of color, that were revealed to me 
by the Spirit of Beauty in my dream. Even as the 
humble workman who molds the great bells stands 
before the deep pit which holds the core and mold 
and the pots and ladles, and as he listens to the roar 
of the bellows and watches the flames grow ever 
brighter, prays that the hissing, melted metal which 
fills the mold may leave no crack unfilled and may 
form the perfect shape he has planned it to be; thus 
do I offer my prayer to the Spirit which guards the 
making of porcelains in all their divine beauty of 
color.’ 


230 






CHINA, THE LAND OF MANY DRAGONS 


“Thus spake the first great porcelain artist who 
dwelt in our Celestial Land some thousands of years 
ago. Patiently did he sift the clay, or kaolin, the 
‘bones' of the porcelain, and the quartz, or tun, its 
‘flesh'; many times did he cleanse them in water as 
clear as the mountain brook which has delighted the 
artist’s eye from the time of Sesshiu on through the 
many years. ‘Now I shall shape thee with grace 
and beauty of line and of form. Well do I know 
that I, the first to mix this creamy paste, can give it 
colors unknown before.' 

“Swiftly his skillful hands kneaded the paste, 
mixing it with those wonderful colors of which only 
he knew the secrets. Long and patiently did he 
work, each touch making more perfect the vases 
which he had formed, their colors delighting the 
eye, and covering it all with the shining, glossy 
enamel. 

“ ‘Feed the furnaces until the Spirit of Fire shall 
be well pleased,’ he cried to his men who were tend¬ 
ing them, ‘and watch them well.’ 

“When the vases were taken from the hot furnace 
which had been so gently blending all the colors, 
behold! there was one ‘blue as the sky is after rain, 

231 





PAN THE PIPER 


when viewed through the rifts of clouds’; there was 
another ‘softly flushed like the skin of a peach’; one 
a pure mossy green; a pale yellow; and a purple, 
deeper than violets and more like the clear evening 
sky after the sun is set and before the coming of the 
stars. 

“ ‘O Spirit of Fire, I thank thee!’ cried the por¬ 
celain maker as he drew forth the last two perfect 
vases: one of blue all delicately veined like winter 
ice cracked, and covered with a graceful pattern of 
the wild prunus flower, meaning winter; the other 
a soft gray-green showing a great five-clawed 
Dragon. 

“ ‘O Spirit of Fire, accept the gratitude of 
thy most humble worshiper. These vases which 
have come forth from the mouths of thy great 
furnaces are like none ever formed before! 
Straightway will I take them to the August and 
Honorable One that their beauty may cause his 
eyes to rejoice and his heart to grow warm with 
delight.’ 

“Hear, then, what happened! When the porce¬ 
lain maker appeared before his Emperor and, bowing 
low many times, presented him with these two most 

232 




CHINA THE LAND OF MANY DRAGONS 


wonderful vases, the Emperor said, ‘Favored one of 
the gods, whose hands can fashion vases of such 
beauty that they bring tears of joy to the beholder, 

BLUE-AND-WHITE HAW¬ 
THORN GINGER JAR 
Chinese porcelain, XVII century 

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum 
of Art 

How would, you like to have a New 
Year's present of this jar filled with 
preserved ginger? Not only is it beau¬ 
tiful in form, but in the pattern of the 
wild prunus flower, or hawthorn, 
meaning wintertime, and the deep-blue 
color of the veined background looking 
like cracked ice. 

I accept thy matchless gift and henceforth the five- 
clawed Dragon which lives in all his fire and 
grandeur upon thy vase, shall be my emblem and 
that of the Emperors of our Celestial Land who fol¬ 
low me!’ ” 1 

“I shall hunt for the five-clawed dragons and the 
beautiful colored vases when I get back,” confided 
Eleanor in the White Crane’s ear, as the voice ceased 

1 The idea of this part of the story came from Lafcadio Hearn’s “Tale 
of the Porcelain God” in Some Chinese Ghosts. 

233 





PAN THE PIPER 


speaking. “And I for the pictures made with such 
few strokes of the brush,” thought William to him¬ 
self, though he did not say it aloud or even whisper 
it, for the Phoenix was rather difficult to talk with. 

“Remember, Little Plum Blossoms,” murmured 
the White Crane, as they dipped and curved and 
glided along, “remember we have many dragons in 
our land. There is the great Sky Dragon who guards 
the heavens and keeps them from falling down; 
there is the Spiritual Dragon who rules the winds and 
the clouds; and the Earth Dragon, who has to do 
with the courses of the great rivers, as well as the 
Dragon of Hidden Treasure. Look well upon the 
Chinese screens, the paintings upon silk or paper, 
the colorful porcelain jars, the rugs, and you will 
recognize these symbols of our Land of Many 
Dragons.” 

“We are back within your land—just where we 
started,” announced the Phoenix, abruptly. 
“Farewell!” 

“Until another time when you wish to visit us 
again!” called back the White Crane, as they swiftly 
flew away. 


234 




























' 












































































































































































































































